


ARGOS

by Caelestium



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - War, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Gore, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Military AU, Oral Sex, Post-Apocalypse, Psychological Drama, Public Sex, Rimming, Smut, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, Trauma, Violence, War AU, adding on more characters as the story goes on, basically angst and fluff and smut, dystopia au, post-apocalypse au, temporary major character death, the holy trinity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 60,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caelestium/pseuds/Caelestium
Summary: “So you mean they brought him back?”“Could be," Oikawa responded, desperately trying to get a grip on his tensed nerves. “We know they experiment on living organisms - they test on animals, right? Who says they don’t actually test on humans too?”“My god..”, it left Iwaizumis throat in a breath.Akaashi tried to focus. “We can only speculate. We will find out more when he wakes up.”Right. Kuroo Tetsurou only needed to wake up for their questions to be answered. But none of them felt really eager for that to happen - the absurdity of the situation was still too much to handle.-----It's been six years since Japan fell into war with itself. With a cruel dictatorship ruling over the country, people count on those who dare to fight against the suffering and are willing to shed their blood. In a world, where you fight for nothing else, but for the people you love and the freedom that was taken. In a world, where people who are more than just mere lovers are hunted down. It's a world in which you are glad to just make it to the next day and Kenma was glad to have made it that far - up until the day when he and his best friend were parted forever.(Main ships: KuroKen, Iwaoi, BokuAka)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 34
Kudos: 55





	1. Anastasis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this story was sitting in my head for a while now and I hope I can write it down as detailed and accurately as possible. I like anything dark and grim paired with lots of psychological drama. Put some explicity to it and I'm all yours - I hope some of you fall into the same niche as I do, haha.  
> That being said, this story has layers (as onions and ogres have, apparently), so expect some plot twists. It's not a romantic slow burn though! 
> 
> Notes/info to the universe/characters:  
> \- I took the anime version of the characters physical appereance, not the manga version  
> \- the characters are in their time skip age here!  
> \- As mentioned in the tags, until now I only tagged the main and a few background/side characters. More names will be added as the story progresses though.

An endless scenery of white presented itself to him, stretched out from the far west to the east and covered all the horizons view could offer.  
Thick snowflakes blew through the air, the wind carrying them to an unknown destination, with a mission to cover everything and anything in an endless, all consuming white coat of coldness.  
The high notes of the wind rang through the fields of this endless, godforsaken land, leaving the impression a monster from the heavens might have caused a storm like this. And it was angry with the ungrateful peasants living on earth.

  
And one man, brave enough to roam through these seemingly endless fields of white walked directly into its large, toothy, white and cold mouth.  
He was easy to notice, with his black, stormy hair and his tall, muscular figure. But the violent act of the snowflakes now covered his entire body, his hair was purely white and he shielded his face desperately with a cloak that must have started to freeze by now.

  
He didn’t care for the direction he walked into, only being able to see his feet which fought to break through the fresh layer of snow - he only cared about moving forward. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to go, to get through this storm or at least make it to the woods behind this tundra.  
There was a calling inside of him, no, a _yearning_ that kept him alive, like an ancient power that woke his instincts.  
He walked directly into the mouth of the monster and gritted his teeth.  
He would come out alive.

*

Soft gold tried to capture every single white drop that fell from the sky. Every single snow flake causing his body to rise up with a mixture of pain, longing and a strange sensation of apathy.  
He was sitting behind the giant glass window, a thick wool blanket keeping his lean body warm. Yet, it felt like he was out there, deeply buried in the snow and as he closed his eyes the coldness of the storm outside crept up on him. He felt it. The white rain hitting his face, forceful, aggressively, the snow he had loved so dearly before turned into a chamber of agony; sucking out his life force, that little drop of willpower that was left inside of him, before he’d sink to the ground.

  
**Thud.**

  
Kenma flinched when something hard hit the glass and his eyes widened. There was nothing outside but a torn tree branch on the snowy ground.  
He swallowed hard. The intensity of the storm matched the one back then perfectly. The howling, screaming wind, the endless white, rock hard snow flakes and a coldness that killed anything that couldn’t hide away sooner. His heart started to beat wildly in his chest and he flinched, shutting the memory of that day away.

  
He felt cold, so cold, since the storm rolled over them. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was his body reacting to the trauma or if he was just extra sensitive today, regardless, it took a toll on him.  
“It doesn’t matter”, Kenma quietly told himself and sunk his gaze, closing his eyes. He laid down on the couch and made himself as small as possible: knees pulled towards his chest, hands in front of his face, the thick wool blanket neatly tucked around him.  
He wouldn’t be able to sleep, now, that his face was already engraved in his memory; the softness of his hazel eyes before they parted. It was as if both of them already knew, but none of them were brave enough to tell it.

  
Kenma spilled no tears, he wasn’t able to. But his body shivered and trembled and he couldn’t do anything more than to lay there and to wait until the storm would pass by. His memory would still be with the one he yearned for the most, even now.  
_Kuroo_.

*

“Hey, Kozume, wake up.” A soft spoken voice clouded Kenmas mind, step by step pulling it further away from his dream state.  
Akaashi softly put a hand on Kenmas shoulder and tucked on it. “Breakfast is ready. You will miss it if you continue sleeping.”  
Akaashis composed voice was soft in his ears. Never did he wake his friend up with force - it was always in very attentive and gentle. Still, Kenmas lips left a soft groan when he tried to sit up. Did he dream of walking a marathon last night? His arms and legs felt as heavy as lead, being all wobbly as he pushed his torso up and he was strangely dizzy.

  
He tucked his wild, black strands of hair out of his face and searched for his hair tie. Akaashi noticed his bedhead wasn’t too different from the normal state of his hair, now that it has become shaggy over the last three years. He would need to trim it soon.

  
Kenmas face was still ridden of sleep, his entire body actually, but the young male forced himself to stand up despite his tiredness or he might fall back into a deep, restless slumber. Akaashis dark, green eyes watched him carefully and he recognized that Kenma must have had a rough night.  
The offer to come to Akaashi in times of need, that he’ll listen and help him ease his mind and nerves was something Kenma rarely made use of. He appreciated him dearly for he was one of the only people he was able to let in after what happened six years ago. And yet, the walls inside Kozumes heart were still too high to climb, still way too hard to break down completely. Only time would sooth him and Akaashi found himself being proud (even a bit touched) when Kenma smiled, talked freely, or even laughed carefree from time to time.

  
“Iwaizumu and Oikawa have arrived this night. Both of them have successfully regained our former base at the north-east border.”  
Kenma thought it was too early to already receive this kind of information - or to talk about business in general - but it was Akaashi Keiji standing in front of him, and he wouldn’t ever keep anything from him that he felt was necessary to know. With his slender fingers, Kenma clumsily parted his hair in order to get it in control before he knotted it loosely together at the nape of his neck. “They’ll probably need you there soon to reactivate our drones, radio and scan systems.” The young man in front of him only frowned, his eyes filled with annoyance and irritation.  
Yep, it was definitely _way_ too early to have this conversation.

“After breakfast, please...”, he mumbled. Akaashi watched him walk out of the living room.  
_Next time, I’ll cut the blonde tips of your hair away,_ he thought to himself _.  
_

_  
_

Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tooru both sat in front of each other at the breakfast table and waited for the others to join them. Iwaizumi drank his black coffee silently whereas Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to even get a bite out of him. Not even noticing that his hands scraped at the soft, wooden slab, Iwaizumi was quick to lay a hand on his; the rough, yet so warm sensation of his skin instantly soothing his lover. Oikawas soft, brown eyes were exhausted, his whole body on edge.  
In his mind he was begging him: _I can’t keep up with it, how long are we going to wait and sit before hell breaks down?_ In his mind, his partner answered: _Easy. We have no other choice to see what happens when it happens_.  
Oikawa swallowed and looked down at the shiny, wooden table, forcing himself to relax. It was one of the things Iwaizumi and he could do - something they always did, since they were children.

  
_Mind talking_.

  
It was said to only occur in those who were chosen by the heavens, lovers that were meant for something greater; a saint might call it holy, the teachers at home tended to merely call it ‘sacred work’. The simpler, more common term would have been soulmates, but it couldn’t even come close enough to the bond divine partners shared - or at least that’s what everyone was told. It was strange, even though Oikawa and Iwaizumi seemed indifferent compared to other, regular couples on first glance, their aura certainly held something special to it that secluded them from those who were considered normal. But in this world where divine lovers, destined to be with each other by not only fate, but an unknown force ( _maybe god, maybe the universe itself?_ ) were meant to meet and to fullfill their sacred purpose, this absurdity was reality.

  
Since the dawn of time, the soul searched for its divine counterpart to be not completed, but satisfied, full even. Oikawa remembered how his teacher told them the stories of godlike creatures, sending their blessings down to earth for the barren planet to grow, for it to be nourished and cared for. An image of a silver scaled dragon, with long, iridescent wings popped up in his mind and he remembered loving these picture book stories as a kid. The blessing of the creature was received by two humans which eventually became the first divine lovers to carry on the blessing on earth, passing it on to their offsprings.

  
“ _This story is an old myth_ ”, his teacher said, her fragile voice speaking gently and with a smile on her lips. “ _But this is the only confirmed and trustable source we have to somehow explain this phenomena. It is said, back then divine couples were the given status quo. Nowadays it is a rarity, out of 100 %, only 8% are together with their dvine counter part_. _We don’t know why that is, but what we do know is that most of our significant progress as human being here on earth is thanks for the clever minds of those who are of divine nature. It’s a gift after all, so make use of it._ ” 

  
A gift, huh? Oikawa felt like snorting over the comparison. Not even once in his life was he treated like the blessing he apparently was. Rather they would stare, call him a liar and ask him if he was that powerful, why was he still living in an orphanage then?

  
Oikawa could have felt alone - and he certainly was for a time of his early childhood - but whenever the words of the other kids felt like kicks into his stomach, whenever his tears stung into his eyes and he couldn’t turn away quick enough to hide the big drops rolling down his puffy cheeks, Iwaizumi would magically appear to rout their enemies.  
In front of Oikawas inner eyes, his childhood days played like a movie and he still felt the joy when Iwaizumi and he fought against imaginary monsters, protecting the blessing of the silver scaled lizard so they could carry it out in the world and proudly walk around like the heroes they were. A soft, loving smile adorned Oikawas lips. He had known it even then: that was their story, Iwa-chans and his.  
“ _The story that our Nana told us, it’s about us, right Iwa-chan?_ ”  
He had asked him.  
“ _Oikawa you idiot, she is our teacher not our granny! And of course I already know, Dumbykawa!!”  
“Don’’t call me that! I’m telling our Nana and then she scolds you!_”

  
Iwaizumi felt the change in his partners mood. His hand hadn’t left his and only by a mere touch he could feel the rise of his heartbeat, the warm it exuded, the tingling sensation that passed through his chest whenever Oikawa fell back into their precious memories. Iwaizumi couldn’t stop his pulse from rising, even if he wanted to: it was the effect your divine partner had on you. Bound by the soul to each other, sometimes you just were one (even though on the surface you couldn’t be more different from the other, as Iwaizumi had figured). 

  
“Morning..” It was Kenmas grumpy, low voice greeting them which made Oikawa flinch lightly and blink his starry-eyed look away. Iwaizumi had felt the shock of his partner, but he covered it up by casually pulling his hand back, while taking another generous sip from his hot brew.  
“Morning”, he greeted Kenma. “Good Morning Kozume-kun”, Oikawa said as he put on a brave, soft smile.  
_He’s really trying, but Kozume will notice soon_ , Iwaizumi thought to himself and leaned back in his chair. “You just woke up?”, he remarked and Kenma plumped down next to Oikawa as he nodded, his favorite mug tightly placed between his hands. Kenma blinked, the sleep still clinging onto him, and examined the food on the table.

It was nothing mere than toast, really, but that was due to the fact that any travels to the next town were close to impossible due to the heavy snow the last couple of days. Still, Akaashi had the time to cook a large amount of scrambled eggs, but the smell of the hot food made Kenma uneasy somehow. He wasn’t really the person to have proper breakfast, two slices of the fluffy white bread in front of him would suffice for his sensitive stomach to be satisfied. After last night and the heaviness that built a tight knot in his abdomen though, he didn’t want to touch or even look at the food at all. It seemed like this morning, tea would be sufficient enough.

  
Kenma pressed the hot cup to his pink lips and waited for him to be scolded by his two friends (again), for not taking care of his body properly. But somehow, both of them seemed strangely quiet.  
His gaze turned to Oikawa, the chattier one of the couple.  
Kenma knew that the war had made a heavy impact on Oikawas mental state. Others weren’t able to tell, but the ones that knew him could even smell it, despite the fact that Oikawa showed this raw side exclusively to Iwaizumi, _if_ he did at all.  
But this time it was different. Kenma felt not only irritated but uneasy by the absence of loud laughs, obnoxiously overdramatic reactions and penetrating questions that usually were too far into Kenmas sacred personal space.

  
Something was off.

  
“The storm was rough last night”, Kenma broke the silence - a rare occasion in itself - as he remembered that the two of them must have arrived only a bit later after he had fallen asleep.  
Iwaizumi nodded, quickly reaching for the words before Oikawa would spill. “Yes, it was the roughest one I had experienced in years.” Kenma just nodded, his big, observant eyes squinting before he pushed himself to take a slice of the white bread and nibble on it.

  
He didn’t feel hungry and from his observation Oikawa neither, since he hadn’t even touched the food yet. His plate was free of any crumbs or stains of grease from the eggs.  
As Akaashi entered the room, the heavy atmosphere in it eased and Iwaizumi sighed out of relief in his mind.  
_This guy somehow always has the right timing_ , he thought. Akaashi Keiji was the eyes and ears of the underground rebellion squad, that had formed after hell broke lose nearly 6 years ago. While Kenma was the eyes and ears technologically, Akaashi was one of the best spies Iwaizumi has met so far. And as an assassin his skills shined with the same amount of preciseness.

  
“You guys did well last night, I’m glad you came home with only a few scratches.” Oikawa cracked a smile. “You know Iwa-chan and I are a power couple, right Akaashi?” Akaashis eyes wandered towards the tall man with the soft brown eyes and ever so softly, milk white skin. “You are divine partners after all.”  
Oikawa always seemed extremly happy about that remark.

  
“You used all your medicine though - sorry, I couldn’t help but notice after I searched for left overs in your back. How come? Did anything happen?” Iwaizumi wanted to speak, but surprisingly it was Tooru who caught the word: “Ah, we met some wounded squads of rebels on our way. They were pretty damaged and needed our help.”  
“I see”, was all that left Akaashis lips.  
”How about Hanamaki and Mattsukawa, did you get in tou-”

  
Akaashi fell dead silent in the middle of his word. His facial expression didn’t change but his eyes grew in sharpness as he paused. There was something just now - a quiet noise from somewhere inside the house, that seemed unfamiliar to him.  
Iwaizumi starred at the man in front of him, his chest tightened, feeling the uneasiness spreading inside his stomach like a disease.  
In the next moment the silence was broken by a loud crash that made Kenma flinch and let Oikawa freeze right on the spot.  
Something downstairs hit the ground and broke. Kenma thought about a vase, but quickly got ride of the idea, since the house didn’t hold any meaningless objects that filled no purpose other to attract dust.  
Iwaizumi didn’t know if he was waiting for a sign, something that would tell him to get the fuck up and care for the business he left behind those goddamn cellar doors, but before anything of that could happen another loud bang echoed from the floor underneath them.Iwaizumi searched for the eyes of his partner and swallowed hard as he noticed the visible distress on Oikawas face.  
_There it was_.

  
He broke.  
He _spilled_.

  
And Iwaizumis stiffened shoulders, all the tensed muscles underneath his shirt gave the signal away that something _unpleasant_ was about to happen.  
Already Akaashi was on his feet and jumped towards the door. “It comes out of the cellar, I’ll check on it” His voice didn’t even shake a bit.  
But Iwaizumis did.  
“Keiji, wait!”, he shouted as he sprinted after him and panic rose in Kenmas stomach, made him feel dizzy all over again.

  
_Something unpleasant was about to happen_.

  
Kicking his fear to the side, Kenma rose immediately, ready to go search for a weapon to defend himself, as Oikawas hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back with force. His eyes were sharp but strangely unable to focus properly - an expression Kenma has never seen on him before and chills that felt like a thousand wasp stings ran from his neck down to his lower back.  
The strength that Oikawa put into his action gave his desperation away and Kenma flinched as he heard the cellar door shut with a loud **thud**.  
“Oikawa, what is-”  
Footsteps echoed through the hallway right into the kitchen and made Kenma fall silent. Someone was climbing the stairs up to the ground floor of the house and Oikawa pushed Kenma to the side, his eyes dead serious as he said: “ _Stay put_.”

  
In this moment, Kenma truly thought he saw his heard bumping through his chest, being dangerously close to exploding.

  
What was in this goddamn cellar?

  
Another loud **thud** and he heard Iwaizumi curse. “What’s up with you, hah? Woken out of your slumber? Need to go back to sleep?!”  
He shouted the last words and only one thought crossed his mind, captured, claimed his brain and made him repeat it again and again and again, like a cursed, broken record.  
_Something unpleasant it about to happen_.

  
Akaashi stormed through the hallway to the kitchen and Kenma could do nothing else but freeze as he saw his widened eyes, nervous, no even frightened, yet desperately trying to hold his composure. With long, quick steps he dashed straight towards Kenmas small, lean body.  
“Keiji, what is going on, I-”  
“Whatever you do, don’t look”, he hissed, the air leaving his lungs, trying to calm his nerves. Now, he was starting to tremble. “What the-”  
“We wanted to tell you”, he heard Oikawa cry out from behind. “Keiji, we really wanted to tell you!”  
Kenmas eyes swiftly shot past Akaashis silhouette and he saw Oikawa swirl around, his face distressed as he watched down the staircase.

  
_Something was climbing up those stairs_.

  
Akaashis hands gripped Kenma tightly, his face coming up to his uncomfortably fast and he made sure that Kozume was not breaking their eye contact.  
“Whatever you do, do _not_ look, you hear me, close your eyes and cover your ears!”  
Kenma heard Akaashis words ringing in his ear, slowly growing number and number by the second.

  
Kenma wanted to close his eyes, wanted to shut out the world, to hide and disappear, to be as soft and delicate as snow. Melting away by the minute it lands on earth.  
But Kenma was not snow, he never was and would never be. For a a brief moment though, the world around and inside him - that never ending snow storm that held him hostage as if he was trapped in a snow globe - was gone.  
Kenma found himself still and mindless in a field of soft, quiet fresh white as his eyes made out the form of a tall, black haired man.

Not even a minute had passed, but the agony and fear that twisted and turned his body felt like years.  
The messy, jet black hair, the tall, muscular body, the long nose and the soft, evenly bowed lips. His sharp, yet strong features in which those hazel eyes where the centerpiece, catching his attention immediately.  
Kenma couldn’t scream, there was already no air left, even if so, he forgot how to breath. He grew stiff, completely lifeless in Akaashis arms and only in a split second their eyes met.

  
It was already a second too long.

  
Oikawa pushed the body back the stairs and a grunt could be heard. Iwaizumis voice called for Oikawa and Toorus figure disappeared as he rushed down to his partner side.  
Akaashi watched with a growing knot that formed inside of his stomach. Fear, shock and pain mixed to an unpleasant sensation that made him feel like throwing up.  
It couldn’t be him.

  
He has been dead for six years. He has seen his dead body with his own eyes. They had to leave him on the battlefield.  
Akaashi snapped out of his messy train of thoughts, reminding himself of the smaller mans body in his arms. He didn’t even notice how both of them have sunken to the ground.  
“Kenma”, Akaashi breathed desperatily, but Kenmas eyes watched through him. Concerned that his friend was falling in total stagnation, losing touch with reality, he shook him.  
Hard.

  
“Kenma, look at me, you need to look at me! It’s me, my voice, I’m here with you!”  
Kenmas eyes shifted to the green ones in front of him. His voice was as dead as it could be for someone who was still alive: breathing and with a beating heart that tried it’s best to keep his body from falling.   
“Make it stop.”  
Akaashi felt himself tremble and pulled Kenmas body close to his. He had to get a grip on himself, he needed to. _For Kenma_ , it echoed in his mind.  
Kenma didn’t move and Akaashi knew damn well he wouldn’t even make the tiniest step outside the kitchen, if he could even move at all.  
“Kenma”, Akaashi whispered. The young man could feel his warm, hazy breath on his ear.  
And at the same time, he couldn’t. Everything was muted. Everything was quiet. He was in a bubble, alone with his grief, pain and the absurdity of the situation.

The hazel eyes.

 _His_ hazel eyes.

“Kuroo..”, Akaashi heard Kenma whimper. Kenmas breath was unsteady and irratic, but he was speaking, at least.  
“Ku..roo...”, he whimpered again and Akaashi took his face in his hand, looking at him attentively. Tears gathered in his eyes, softly laying a shimmery, wet veil on the gold of his iris. In the next moment, the veil ripped in two and the thick, salty pearls cascaded down his pale cheeks. Keiji knew that Kenma probably didn’t even realize he was crying. Kenmas small hands were grabbing Akaashis sweater tightly and his golden eyes were glassy.  
There was so too much happening.

Too much.

Iwaizumis cursing from downstairs, their loud attempt to maintain the berserk going guest inside the cellar, Akaashis broken expression, the fact that he was _alive_.  
But he couldn’t be - he has been _dead_.  
Cold and stiff - the blood that gushed from his torso and head already starting to freeze on his lifeless body. Even today, he could still feel the hard wind, which blew endless troops of hard, thick, snow flakes in Kenmas face as he fell down in front of his best friends body.

The pain was overwhelming, sharp and white.

Something similar formed inside of him, made him feel unable to breathe. He decided not to. As Akaashi called his name and pulled him closer to his chest, his face nudged to the side, he decided to let go, because his body couldn’t bear the strength to pull through that sort of pain again.  
_Please, not again_.

He has been sure, an experience like that would never repeat itself. He made sure up until now, it would never repeat itself.  
The world was an unnecessary cruel place, even though some liked to believe otherwise. Kenma was sure, things just happened, fate was something arbitrary, something moody others held too close onto. He truly believed, that if you wouldn’t pay too much attention to it, fate would pass by and forget those who never even tried to reach for it.  
He wanted to melt like snow in front of fates cruel, cold eyes.  
And yet, fate wasn’t done with Kozume Kenma.  
His eyes fluttered shut, his mind urging him to let go and so he fell in an endless state of darkness.

Akaashi carried Kenma into his bed after he noticed the young man had fainted. It was only to be expected.  
He watched him closely, the eyes underneath his lids moving erratically, his fingers and toes twitching occasionally, but despite the few movements Kenma was asleep.

The fingertips of Akaashis soft hand brushed the black strains of hair from Kenmas delicate face and he left them there, allowing himself to feel the warmth of his skin for a few moments. He sighed. The uneasiness hasn’t left him fully, but panic wouldn’t get him far, that he knew for the better. Still, with a growing uneasiness, he stood up and made his way downstairs, ready to face whatever Oikawa and Iwaizumi have found on their mission.

Akaashi didn’t feel like confrontation, even though an unusual sense of anger has settled in his abdomen. As he walked through the cellar door, Oikawa was standing beside the metallic operating table, that was lousily covered in one of Oikawas old bed sheets with at least four thick wool blankets laid upon. Iwaizumi was sitting on the floor, his knees touching his forehead, arms pulled behind his neck out of exhaustion, back leaing against the cool stone walls. But what Akaashi was really here for was the man resting on the provisional arranged bed.  
Tall and muscular in figure, messy, black hair.  
The blankets covered his naked body.

“Explain”, was all that left Akaashis lips. Oikawas tender, yet sorrowful eyes moved from Kuroo to Akaashi and he spoke: “We found him on our way back home. He was probably heading eastwards, wanting to leave the tundra and search for cover in the forests.” He exhaled before continuing. “But he probably broke down from exhaustion. When we found him he was barely breathing. It’s honestly a surprise he survived, let alone he woke up and had the strength to walk around.”

  
Cautiously Akaashi moved closer to the table, wanting to make out the form of his face. He inhaled sharply as he made out the faint, white scar that ran through his left eye, like a brook parting an open field.  
He remembered what his body looked like back then.  
Akaashi came closer, afraid the man would rise up and act on another wave of violence that crushed over him. But Kuroo slept soundly due to the sedative Iwaizumi injected him previously.  
He still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea, that is former friends body was laying in front of him.

The last time he saw his face, it had been on the verge of turning blue and grey. Now it was beaming, weakly, but life itself, a strong ancient force, radiated through his body and made out his whole being. Akaashi extended a finger towards his cheek and softly, very softly touched it. Only putting enough pressure to it, so he could feel the warmth from his skin. And as he pulled away it still lingered on his own.

All three looked at each other.

“How come he is alive.” It was no question, rather a statement of disbelieve. Iwaizumi stood up, his muscles relaxing and he eyed the man in front of him. “We don’t know. He was dead. We are sure about that. They basically ripped him apart. And you and Kozume confirmed his death as well.”  
Akaashi nodded.  
“We never burried the body though”, Oikawa exclaimed and instantly something crept up everyones neck. An unpleasant, eerie feeling that held on to anyones back to bite down painfully hard. Iwaizumis eyes widened. “You don’t mean-”  
“We don’t know what happened with him after we left the battlefield. He was trained by the military, he was one of their soldiers. And he was one of the best, who tells us they didn’t want to make use of it.”  
Iwaizumi shook his head violently and a grimace of utter disgust covered his face. “That’s fucked up. Fuck, that’s fucked up, shit!”, he spat through gritted teeth and Akaashi added on: “The scar is identical to the injury on his left eye.”

Akaashi remembered the wound, that turned his left side into a crescent red mess. It was a deep stabwound, usually leaving any survivor blind afterwards.  
An instant sickness overcame him.

Iwaizumi rubbed his face and kept it covered with his large palms for a while, before he calmed down.  
“So you mean they brought him back?”  
“Could be”, Oikawa responded, desperately, trying to get a grip on his tensed nerves. “We know they experiment on living organisms - they test on animals, right? Who says they don’t actually test on humans too?”  
“My god..”, it left Iwaizumis throat in a breath.  
Akaashi tried to focus, despite his mind going crazy over the fact, that some madman in a lab could have brough back his shortly believed dead friend.  
“We can only speculate. We will find out more when he wakes up.”

Right. Kuroo Tetsurou only needed to wake up for their questions to be answered. But none of them felt really eager for that to happen - the absurdity of the situation was still too much too handle.

“What if he has no memories of us?”, Oikawa asked and Akaashi only nodded to his question. “It’s most likely. Why would they bring him back only to have him fight against them all over again. If he was brought back and it's Kuroo, then he was probably meant to fight for their cause, not ours.” Akaashis statement seemed reasonable.  
“What’s with Kozume-kun? How’s he doing?” Oikawa knew that the question was stupid, in a way, he already knew Kenma was probably on the verge of losing it, if he did not already. “Asleep, in my bed. He was paralyzed, then fainted.”  
Oikawa figured that would have happened.

“They were best friends after all”, Iwaizumi remarked and Akaashi answered with a humm. “How do we do it, though? With Kenma, I mean. When Kuroo doesn’t remember or even worse: he tries to fight us, hates us even. What then? Living in a world with a best friend that turned to the dark side, I wouldn’t want that either.” Oikawa threw a soft glance to Iwaizumi, but the eyes of his partner still clung to the sleeping face of the man in front of him.  
“I’ll...I’ll figure something out. There’s no other way”, Keiji murmured.  
_There’s got to be a way_.

As he opened his eyes he felt nauseous. Sea sick, bed ridden, chewed and spit out. He smelled the light cologne on the fresh bed sheets and his fingers curled into them. He remembered the ceiling with the thick glass windows in it to observe the sky by night, but now that it was noon, the sun greeted him disgustingly bright and happy.

  
He was in Akaashis bed.

  
He squinted against the sunlight and felt a sharp pain through his skull. Seemed, like a head ache wanted to accompany him throughout the day. A soft knock on the door caught his attention and with a light creak Akaashis figure slid through it, a herbal tea in his hand. His eyes widened with relief.

“You’re awake”, he stated and even though his voice remained steady his eyes seemed to sparkle a bit. Akaashi sat down next to the small, exhausted body and help lifting it up. He handed him the mug, steam rising from it and Kenma noticed that it was his favorite one; the one with the black cat on it.  
“Ah”, he flinched, pulling his lips away as he burned his tongue. “It’s still very hot, let it cool down first.” Kenma nodded but kept the hot mug, gripping it with his hands shielded by the long sleeves of his hoddie. The warmth was soothing.

  
“It was no dream, right?”, Kenma asked flatly and Akaashi simply nodded. His hand found his way on top of Kenmas head, stroking his hair tenderly. “No. But he is sleeping now, so it is fine.” Kenmas eyes were struck by some sort of disgust, Akaashi noticed. “It”, he spat and his friend raised a brow. “That’s not Kuroo. This is something else. Tetsurou is dead.” The last words left his lips trembling.  
Keiji understood his friends reaction. Yesterday Kuroo Tetsurou was a dead man. No grave, no funeral, just a body that was left behind to decay and rot away. Today, he was alive. An even taller, muscular man than he has been before, with his instantly recognizable rooster head.

As terryfingly shocking it was, the fact that after all those years he still had this messy mane would've provoked a chuckle from Akaashi. Maybe laughing wasn't such a bad way to cope with the whole dilemma at their feet.

  
Still, Akaashi figured there was no other way to make the small cat understand, than to see for himself. Kuroo would wake up eventually, staying inside the house at least for how long he needed to recover fully (if he wanted to stay or was no threat to their safety, that is). Kenma would be confronted with him in some sort of way, in the end.  
“Can you stand up?”, Akaashi asked and Kenma nodded hesitantly. “Good. Because I think it’s best to see for yourself.” Kenmas half lided eyes shot open and the soft gold iris shimmered in a dazzling heat. “No”, he spoke rather calmly, yet his voice carried some sort of hidden aggression Akaashi usually didn't witness from his friend. He wasn't the type to get willingly angry, let alone physical, so naturally, Keiji was taken aback by it.

"Kenma, you-”  
“I will not go downstairs to this..this.. _thing_.”  
“But it’s _human_. Alive, with blood running through his veins and a heartbeat. He is asleep, he can’t hurt you.”  
“ _No_.” Kenmas voice was shaking now, his knuckles turning white, the grip on his mug intensifying. Akaashis eyes softened, before he spoke.  
“He has a scar over his left eye. Exactly were they hit it that day.”  
Kenmas lips parted, brows furrowing. Torn apart, his gaze shifted to the floor and he wished he wasn’t confronted with such a situation to begin with. “But he’s...”  
“Alive. And we still speculate how to begin with. But you have to see it for yourself. For now, it’s the reality. Absurd and gross, but we will get our answers eventually, slowly.” Akaashis words were always unerring. Kenma swallowed hard and his friend made out the slow bob of his adams apple.

“Fine”, he breathed, almost impossible to hear. "I'll go with you."

Kenmas body was stiff as they passed the stairs and walked through the cellar door, his mind in flight or fight mode. In his condition though, he’d just fall back into stagnation.  
It took him five minutes and Akaashis pushy hand on his shoulder to move his heavy legs towards the improvised bed.  
“Maybe look at the torso first, so you see he’s breathing.” Akaashi was speaking directly into his ear but in this moment Kenma was far, far away.

  
He did look at the torso, covered by thick blankets first. Softly they rose and fell with every quiet breath he took. The sound echoed loudly in Kenmas mind.  
Then, his eyes wandered up. The broad shoulders and his collar bone, the curve of his throat and how perfectly it intertwined with his sharp jaw, the lips were parted, dry and there were a few light scratches on his cheek, cleaned up and healing already. His hair was still messy, covering a part of his face, but his features were so soft, so relaxed, almost angelic.

At last, there was the scar, meandering through his even skin, to corrupt it, reminding him for the rest of his days, that he indeed was someone who was granted with two lives.  
Akaashi watched Kenma closely. “Touch his cheeks to feel his warmth. I did too.” _No_ , it shot through his mind immediately, but he reminded himself why he came down here to begin with.   
To confirm, Kuroo, indeed, was alive.

  
With a shaking hand Kenma spread his fingers and hovered over his best friends face. Then he laid his fingertips on his right side of it and he exhaled the breath he didn't notice he was holding. He gasped for air afterwards, before a tear formed in his eye.

“Kuroo..”, he said and dared to rest his hand fully on the sleeping mans cheek. Silently the tear fell.  
Without being able to move, Kenmas hand froze in place and a tingling, hot sensation went from his spine, through his stomach, down his feet.  
Something shook him deep in his core and if he wasn't weakened by his faint earlier on, he would have acted on the euphoria that wandered through his entire body. There was some twisted kind of blissfulness that captivated his whole being, even though Kenma was still shocked, even though he was still anxious and uncertain of how Kuroo was brought back to life.

“We don’t know if he will remember us. You have to understand that it's most likely that he'll consider us a threat, maybe even enemies”, Akaashi stated as empathetic as possible.  
Kenma bit his lip at the thought of Kuroo hating him for what he is, not remembering him, their past simply non existent.  
“I figured”, he replied, his voice without any hint of concern.

  
Kenma gently cupped Kuroos cheek now, growing more comfortable with the touch, his eyes not turning away from him for a split second. The image of Kuroos Cheshire cat smile crossed his mind and Kenma wondered if this Kuroo would smile like that too.  
Deeply speculating, Kenma almost let the sudden flinch from the body in front of him slip; the muscles underneath the blankets moved, the lips twitching and only a brief moment passed, as the hazel eyes shot open, catching the golden liquid that were Kenmas.

  
The view of his two eyes - perfect as they have been before - glowing full of life made Kenma lose all blood in his face. Instantly he snatched his hand away, stumbling into Akaashi, who stepped protecting in front of the smaller man.  
Kuroo sat up with an easiness that left Akaashi speechless - even though he groaned while doing so. The tall, jet black cat touched his left eye carefully and he winced as a sharp pain went through the sensitive area.

  
It might have been Akaashi who stood right before him, trying to grasp for the right words to say, but it was Kenma his eyes were fixed on.  
And Kenma wasn’t able to free himself from the stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The (wild and aggressive) sleeping beauty awoke from her deep slumber: let's see if she's as magical as her friends have her in mind! 
> 
> This was the first chapter, if you have any thoughts about the story already, let me know! Thanks for reading! x


	2. Unknown Pleasures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> Before starting off with the second chapter, I'll have to adress something real quick:  
> In this story will be a TEMPORARY main character death! I'll tagged it for now and will adress it when the time comes at the beginning notes of the chapter.

Just shortly after Kuroo awoke, Akaashi had told Kenma to get Iwaizumi and Oikawa from the training field outside.

It was Iwaizumi who ordered Kenma explicitly _not_ to enter the cellar as long as they don’t know if Kuroo is peaceful or not. An hour passed, an hour in which even his beloved PSP (the one he'd had to rebuild himself from scratch after his original one got demolished) couldn’t distract or help him relax his nerves.  
His mind constantly wandered to what was happening _right_ underneath him.  
Another endlessly dragging 30 minutes passed before Akaashi finally knocked on his door. One brief glance was enough for Kenma to understand.

He followed him downstairs, walking straight to the kitchen and the three men had seated themselves around the dining table. The one in the middle had his shaggy black hair partly covering his face, a glass of water in his right hand and hard eyes that pin pointed Kenma in an instant as he entered the room. He felt exposed and searched for his feet, his hair blocking Kuroos view now.  
“This is Kozume Kenma. He leads our technological sub-area. He is from the capitol, like the rest of us.” Kenma kept his eyes fixed on the floor because he _felt_ the hardness of Kuroos gaze on him like the blow of a hammer. And that hammer aimed with a shacking preciseness for his delicate head.

It made his skin crawl.

“But that’s not all of you, right?” Kenma suppressed a flinch as he heard Kuroos deep, smooth voice. Raspy around the edges(due to his close death in the snow), but it was definitely _his_ voice.  
And Kenma hadn’t heard it in so many years. He didn’t know if he was joyous or creeped out, at this rate it could be the voice of a ghost talking to him. So he just endured for now, hoping that the Kuroo in front of him would lose interest soon over the small man, with his too wide hoodie and the partly black, partly blonde hair.

Akaashi tucked on Kenmas sleeve and pointed with a light nod of his head to the chairs. Kenmas eyes were lifeless, despite his rising anxiety. His skin was burning and he wanted to itch the parts that felt like fire, but he held is composure: hands folded in his lap, head slightly bowed, his face not giving away the slightest hint of emotion.

  
“So, what exactly where you doing so far up in the north?”, Iwaizumi broke the silence and crossed his arms in front of his big chest. “You had nothing with you, except the small, red backpack.” Kuroos eyes shifted and focused on the man before him.  
Iwaizumis bold features, his buff and strong physique and his spiky, dark brown hair surely left an impression of danger – or at least for his opponent to be cautious. But Kuroo thought of his eyes to be weirdly soft. If it weren't for his eyes (and sensible behavior) the black cat would have felt threatened to whet his claws.  
Kuroo simply shrugged. “I don't know. It felt right.”

Oikawas lips twisted, swallowing a question. “Right”, Iwaizumi remarked nonchalantly and threw a quick look over to Keiji. “You haven't told us your name yet”, Akaashi stated and his gaze was _focused_ on the sharp hazel eyes. Maybe it was his nature to protect Kenma that called out for him to present himself in a prominent way, maybe it was just his nerves getting the best of him.

The man in front of him waited a few moments. Moments he used to gather himself and to ignore this aching pain that stung from the left side of his face.  
It was always this goddamn eye injury taking a toll on him.  
“Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

 _He uses his given name_ , it crossed Kenmas mind and in this split second he forgot about his composure, about his rising anxiety and threw a quick glance to the silhouette next to him.

  
The afternoons sun broke through the thick, gray wall of clouds and searched its way through the windows into the kitchen. The way the softly, glowing light placed itself upon his breathing body, kissing his skin in the most delicate way, made Kenmas heart ache.  
He noticed that he started to grow a prickly beard around his fine jawline and the cracked calluses on his hands were a representative of fulfilling hard work. In this split second, Kenma noticed the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes - something he knew in the past he'd have gotten from laughing and grinning way too much: now, there were new ones, clearly being a sign of stress and fatigue. The way he held himself didn't change, that he was sure of. Even if his posture was definitely signaling defense, his strength and persuasiveness radiated through it.  
“Did you get lost? Maybe separated from a group, or a partner?”  
Again, he shook his head.  
“I was alone.”

All alone, in that part of the country that was lovingly called “wasteland” by those living in the capitol, even worse, being the territory of the civilian rebels.

“Listen, Kuroo”, Oikawa pointed his words towards the man next to him and his eyes gained a hint of severity.“We are no heartless people. You were close to dying and even though you sit in front of us you're body is clearly still weak. We want to help you, but need you to be completely honest with us.” He spoke carefully, as he continued: “You know where you are. Do you? These lands? The territory?”

Kuroos hazel eyes withstand Oikawas penetrative glance and Kenma noticed that the tall cat was weighting out more than one or two options in his mind. Then he answered.

“I am in rebel territory. This is war zone here. I know that. And you are working for them as well, else, an exquisitely trained group of soldiers like you wouldn't hide away in the middle of fucking nowhere, right?” He tilted his head before he repeated his previously ignored question. “So where's the rest of you all?”

  
An unnerving silence took up the room and Oikawa suppressed a grimace which led to an unnerving, fake smile on his lips with which he replied softly: “The 'others' are all over this area - in the capitol, on the borders, you name it. If you imply someone else is living here I have to disappoint you, currently we are the only ones occupying this house.” A sly grin settled on Kuroos face as he nodded, pleased. Even though he was half dead just a day ago, this man had enough strength to risk a fight with his devious, sharp tongue. Kenma wondered, if this Kuroo was malicious in nature, but quickly he forced himself to let go of the thought. The mere idea of it made his heart sink.

“Listen, I don't mean no harm. I am more than thankful that you were willing to scratch me off the floor.” His smirk lost its width and turned into a bitter smile. “You have to take my word for it now, but I don't know where I came from, nor who I was. I'm wandering through these wastelands because that's what I've always been doing: wandering.”

While Oikawa and Iwaizumi furrowed their brows at the statement, Akaashi and Kenma stayed cool and collected. Kenmas eyes were back at his folded hands, though, he was dissecting every bit of Kuroos words, twisting and turning them around as he spoke.

“But you remembered your name?”, Akaashi asked cautiously.  
“I think so. I mean, it was written on the name tag inside my backpack.” With his raspy voice he laughed then and Kenma thought of it as weird and tactless. He didn't want to hear him laugh now. “Ever tried to name yourself? I don't know if that's my real name, I just decided it'll be easier to have one when you pass through the country, y'know?”  
“So you had no clue who your were and where to go and just traveled these lands in hope to find a clue?”, Oikawa exclaimed, his hand supporting the tilting head. The way those soft brown eyes scanned the man in front of him was too familiar for Toorus lover and Iwaizumi shot a quick thought towards Oikawas mind.

_Are you testing him?_

In a brief moment, his partner answered: _Oh yeah, I do._

“Testing” as they called it, was one of Oikawas gifts – or blessing, depending on what people preferred to call it – that he had received as a child. So it came to no surprise that Oikawa had only Iwa-chan as a friend in his childhood, since every other kids intention was either from bad nature or not honest. Coming from the poorest sector of the capitol (or “flea market”, how some of the richer sectors liked to call it), plus living in an orphanage gave no advantages to Oikawa Toorus life. He figured that out in the hard way.  
But there was one thing life blessed him with: seeing through peoples souls.

Testing them.

  
He had explained it to Iwaizumi, as they entered the military academy “Shiratorizawa” of their home prefecture. To be honest, Iwa-chan had never second guessed Oikawas ability, nor did he cared for him to explain it. Iwaizumi Hajime was an honest person. He didn't lie to Oikawa and his bluntness granted his best friend turned lover many infamous nicknames (much to Oikawas dislike).

“ _It's like a light that shines from your heart and it radiates through your whole body. People with good intent shine in bright gold. The others are as dull as a rainy Sunday afternoon can be, Iwa-chan.”_

They had laid in Iwa-chans bed that night. His roommates Hanamaki and Mattsukawa sneaked out to visit a little dorm party of the second years, and they were certainly not surprised in the slightest as Iwaizumi “I-go-to-bed-at-9pm-every-night” Hajime and Oikawa “I-really-need-my-full-8-hours-of-sleep” Tooru denied the invitation to accompany them.  
The truth was, that he knew he could spend at least a few hours in total solitude with Oikawa. He did not only want to be close to him, but needed to. A yearning inside of him, that only grew greater and greater as time passed by.  
He remembered the way Oikawas slender, soft fingers shyly searched for his to intertwine them. Even though it was nothing out of the ordinary for him, he felt his heartbeat rising.  
Both stared at the ceiling.  
Dull and boring as any ceiling could be.  
But the intimacy they both shared made it more precious than anything else Iwaizumi could have asked for in this moment.

The sound of Akaashi clearing his throat popped the rose-colored bubble Iwaizumi just had been in and quickly brought him back to reality. He scolded himself for getting carried away so easily.

“So you plan on staying? We don't mind guests, as long as we know which side they fight for.”  
Even though Akaashis observant eyes were always filled with a touch of mystery, today, Iwaizumi couldn't help but notice that there was a hint of venom between his careful gazes and understanding nods. Maybe Oikawa could tell more about Keijis true thoughts, even though he tended to never scan any of his friends with his ability. In that moment Kuroos face spoke of defeat, and showed the palms of his hands in an apologetic matter.

“I guess I have to disappoint you.”

For a brief second, everyone held their breath.

“I don't take any sides.”

The tensed faces relaxed, though only for a short moment.

“What do you mean with you 'don't take sides'?”, Iwa-chan asked, leaning in closer, his muscles becoming apparent through the thin material of his black turtle neck. Kuroo answered without a hint of fear: “What I just said. I don't take sides. I don't care for war. I am a man without a home, history and a family. I have no job, nor would I know about any other of my qualifications. I didn't even know a war was going on when I woke up, you think I'll just jump into a fight, risking my life when I don't even know why it was given to me? You got to be kidding.”  
Iwaizumi gritted his teeth, but made sure to not let himself get overrun by emotions. It was reasonable, but knowing that he actually died risking his life for the cause of revolting against Lord Washijous dictatorship was difficult to swallow.

 _Very_ difficult.

“That's fine”, Akaashi said then. “We don't need you to be part of our cause. We just need you to not be part of _their_ side.”  
“I'll make you an offer, if you are open for compromise”, the shaggy cat said and felt comfortable enough to lean back in his chair, relaxing his stiff back. “As I was making my way through the cities up to the north I made it by working as a day laborer. I don't need money, all I need is medical treatment for now, a bed to sleep in and three meals a day. In exchange I lend you a hand if you need one. I'm not a soldier by any means, but I do know how to fight or repair a lousy shed. I'll be your man for everything if you want to.”

All four looked at each other.  
Oikawa was the first to speak.

“Mhm, so that's all what it takes to win your goodwill? A bit of food and a blanket with a pillow?”

“Preferably with a mattress underneath”, Kuroo added on with a sly smile and Oikawa felt chills running up all over his body. In school, their conversations consisted purely out of sneaky remarks and sarcastic comebacks. What has been all fun and egocentric trails of strength now rather felt like tip toeing around the open jaws of a sleeping lion. Even though Oikawa was a determined and clever man, nor unconfident in his strength and skills, he told himself to take it slow and not getting too comfortable early on.

They still had none of their questions really answered.

“Killed a person before?”, Iwaizumi asked blatantly and Oikawa raised his brows. “Iwa-chan, what the hell are you saying?!” But Iwa-chan merely shrugged his shoulders. “He wants to work for us, he knows we kill people, do you think he doesn't know that?”  
It was the owl at the tables end who sighed now.

  
“Nobody requires from you to kill a person”, Akaashi explained, his hands covering his mouth as he sat their, confused himself if Kuroo was _trained_ in killing though.  
“I'm not keen on killing anyone”, the man with the rooster head spoke. “But it wouldn't be the first time. I don't like it, even though I had to make use of it before. Take this information as your answer and do as you please with it. Just remember, I am no trained soldier.” Even Akaashi seemed a bit dumbfounded at this point. Kuroo back then was willing to shed blood for a greater cause, but willingly ending life to get by? If he didn't die, was there a possibility that he'd turn into a mindless man like the one sitting in front of them?

“Listen”, Akaashi started, but his friend with the golden, cat like eyes and the black and blonde hair interrupted him.  
It was the first time he spoke up since they entered the kitchen.

“It's fine. We gained help for our duties and he gets shelter in return. An equivalent exchange. There is no point in arguing about subjective morals and opinions. We can do that when it comes down to it, for now, no one is planning on killing anyone to begin with.” Slowly his eyes looked up from his lap and he checked the reactions of the rest. As expected, his friends seemed to somewhat agree, even though Akaashi still seemed unsatisfied.

But a moment too long and Kenma felt Kuroos penetrating gaze, knocking on his temple, daring the small cat to turn around and face him.  
Kenma did.  
For a little moment he did dare to look back to those hazel eyes – then, he stood up and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“I'll leave now. The important part of the conversation has found its end.”  
Without turning back, he exited the kitchen and headed straight to the stairs to the first floor.  
He needed a moment to comprehend what just happened.

The chance of Kuroo being _the Kuroo_ from his beloved memories, the Kuroo that got murdered while fighting for their freedom, seemed not that unlikely anymore.

Far away from the rebels station in the woods, even further away from the snowy tundra, passing the windy highlands and mountains, a man sat down in his shiny, jet black leather armchair. The cities noise had let him to suffer yet another, painful migraine and he chocked down his pills with a whiskey on the rocks.

One big gulp and a bitter aftertaste later, he exhaled.

He was getting old.

His bones felt rusty with every move, food became tasteless, decisions took him more time to make and his eyesight - god forbid – got worse with every passing day. He was blind without his thick framed glasses. Washijou was getting old and his body gave him all the signals that he was on the verge of giving in. Lord Washijou was exhausted, being head of the country was a task you can only be born for.

  
The old man searched for a pack of cigarettes in his desk drawers, put one between his thin lips and lit it with an urgency, not even he could get behind. As the sensation of the tobacco and the tingling effect of the nicotine rolled over his stressed state, he sighed, smoke leaving his lungs.

 _There is only so much, an old man like I can do_ , he told himself quietly.

The room was dark.  
Only through a small slit of the deep red curtains, the plastic light of the billboards found a way into his office.  
Tanji Washijou was a man who believed in strength. Only those who were born an alpha would overcome fates cruel, undetermined leadership. Either you were born to pass the finish line or you'd die on the way getting there.

Washijou closed his eyes and let the memories pour onto him. Fighting his way from the bottom to the top, the years of blood, sweat and tears only to get reduced in rank by some well spoken, sophisticated newbie (who certainly only appeared more impressive when he called himself a 'divine lover') , but who eventually simply had not the balls to cut ties in war, to sacrifice when it was needed or to put others in place.

 _My task is to bring justice, I felt that since I was a child. That is why I chose the military. I want to serve a purpose, but bring change,_ he remembered his lousy words.

He really thought, just because he had this weird 'magic' inside of him, he'd be able to make the world a better place, eh?

 _Ever looked past your front door? The world is a cruel place and no godly gift on earth will take that painful experience from you, kid._ That was exactly what Tanji had spat back to the naive statement.

All those painful years in training and the teachers in military school that tried to talk him into another career certainly shaped his view. And it was deliciously satisfying to watch them turn pale as he was granted his fifth and last star as the general of the armies.

Washijou had no time for love, nor did he ever had great interest in experiencing it. This whole 'divine lover' talk they gave him in elementary school was to laugh about. He was not blessed by the universe by any means, he was thought to be plain and mediocre by even his parents themselves. And now he had the whole world underneath his feet, ruling with an iron fist.

And yet, Washijou was getting old.  
Very old.  
Death might just await him tomorrow morning when he'd leave his office to take a quick piss.

He took another sip of his liqueur.

His mind wandered to the young Ushijima Wakatoshi. A man who was born to live greatly, a man of many talents – an alpha how they were written in the books. If Washijou would have ever had any interest in kids, he might have wished for them to turn out like Wakatoshi.  
But Tanji Washijou had no kids he could have raised to follow his path. And even though he laid his hopes and dreams in Wakatoshis hands, death would not get him just now.

Washijou was a man who had a few tricks up his sleeve and even father death would be at complete loss, realizing Tanji Washijou was even made to overcome him.

The sun had already set - it must have been around 11pm - as Kenma decided to grab a snack for dinner.  
Not, that he felt hungry to begin with (despite his rather small and fragile looking posture he could endure a lot), but knew his body was drained at this point. Adjusting to the fact that Kuroo was alive wasn't as easy as to believe, that there was a strange man walking around in Kuroos body, wearing his skin as a disguise.

It wouldn't be any grosser and more horrific than the fact that he has been brought back to life, but it was easier to cope knowing his best friend hasn't forgotten his previous lifetime.  
He couldn't even remember where he came from, he simply stated he “woke up”, unable to recall a single thing.

“What does that even mean?”, Kenma grumbled and opened the door to the corridor. Barefoot, he stepped through the darkness of the hallway, the sound of his footsteps bouncing back from the wooden floor, to the naked wooden walls.

Suddenly, the bathroom door flew open and if Kenmas reflexes weren't exactly like those of a cat he would get a straight hit to the nose. He jumped to the side, heart pounding, not having expected for anyone to still be awake.  
His heart sunk to the ground, his face turning into a mixture of anger and shock as a tall, black rooster head stood in front of him.

  
“Sorry”, he just said. “Didn't see you there.” Not even able to serve him one of Kenmas classical, tedious, yet sneaky remarks, the man with the golden eyes just turned away and walked past him.  
“I was given the bedroom next to yours. It's free, Akaashi told me.”  
Kenma held still, granting him to finish his sentence, but not giving him the satisfaction of a second glance.  
“I just thought you should know. And by the way, I really didn't mean to hit-”  
“You didn't”, Kenma cut his apology of. Even if it came from a good place, he didn't want to hear it.

 _Especially_ , if it came from a good place.

And so, he left Kuroo behind, rushing down the stairs, gulping down a glass of water and waiting at least five minutes in utter silence to make sure the tall, black cat wasn't lingering in the hallway anymore. He thought about getting a bite of yesterdays pasta, but he certainly lost all of his appetite by now.  
Back in his room, his naked, slender legs touced the cold sheets of his bed and he closed his eyes, wishing his mind wouldn't wander to the fact, that only a damn wall was separating him and Kuroo.

Did he sleep? Was he awake like Kenma, haunted by the image of his dead best friends face?  
He definitely wasn't.  
He didn't even know who they were, who he, Kenma, was.  
He frowned, already feeling the sleeplessness creeping up on him.  
The real question was, how long would he stay and if he left one day, would Kenma be able to be separated from Kuroo for a second time?

In the only bedroom of the ground floor, faint whimpers broke the midnight's silence.

Soft lips brushed the nape of Oikawas neck, before biting down, roughly tasting him, sucking on the milk-white skin.  
With his back pressed against Iwaizumis bare chest, he leaned into the sensation and sighed beautifully against his lovers ear, as he tilted head back.

The feeling of Iwaizumis hand around his cock, pumping faster and faster as the moments passed, his lips on his neck and his other hand searching for his soft pink nipple, pinching it between his fingers until it was hard, let the burning urgency inside of him cry for more.

More, he wanted _more_.

More touching, more licking, more of the sounds of his wetness when Iwa-chan touched him, when he was _inside_ of him.

“Ah, Iwa-chan...!”, Oikawa gasped, pressing his ass hard against Iwaizumis erection. An amused smile adorned Iwa-chans lips.  
“Ah, you're so desperate today..what for?”, he chuckled, his hot breath tickling Toorus sensitive skin. Grabbing his hand, Oikawa pressed his fingers around Iwaizumis closed fist, putting even more pressure around his dripping cock.

Soft, hazy eyes locked with Iwaizumis dark ones and the heat radiating from his lovers face sent desperate, hungry shivers down his groin. With a quick, fluid motion Oikawa turned around, his smooth, long legs straddling Iwaizumis muscular body. And Oikawa _loved_ feeling every part of his tensed muscles.

“You're really ready?”, Iwa-chan breathed, his hands already on Oikawas hips, pressing them even further into his own. Slowly, with his heated eyes still fixed on Iwaizumis attentive gaze, Oikawa moved, his throbbing dick – painfully, yet deliciously slow -, rubbing it against his lovers heated length. Iwaizumi groaned, biting his tongue as he remembered not to be too noisy.

  
Yet, Oikawa was craving those low groans and heavy moans of Iwaizumis husky voice and with an impulsive, eager kiss on his lips he parted them, swallowing every sweet bit of Iwa-chans sounds. The hot, sharp knot in Iwaizumis core grew bigger and bigger; deepening the kiss, his hips rolled with great anticipation now. He wanted him just as much.

And with their bodies still tied together, Oikawa quickly grabbed the lube from the bedside table, and squeezed a generous load of it onto his hand, soaking his fingers in it, before gliding them between his spread cheeks.

He was impatient, hungry to feel Iwa-chan inside of him, _his_ Iwa-chan.  
With a quick movement, his fingers entered himself, almost frantically pushing them in and out - just enough to be widened.

“Oikawa, there is no need to hurry-”  
“There is, Iwa-chan”, Tooru panted against his lips, becoming a hot mess on top of his lovers hips, as his glistening hand covered Iwa-chans cock with another load of lube. With his thumb pressing down on his dripping tip, Oikawa glanced down, his breath erratic.

Iwaizumi bucked his hips, giving in to the touch, as his eyes wandered Toorus body up: from the sharp v-line above his hips, to his soft, squish-able belly; the tall, muscular frame of his chest and the fine shoulders he so much loved to bite into, when he took him from behind.

Toorus eyes were hazy, completely giving in to the lust and yet, there was a hint of something else. Something else Iwaizumi felt, with their bodies so close and intimate with each other, the gut feeling was kicking his stomach, while his desperate urge to just push his needy cock inside Oikawa was fighting against it.

“Tooru”, he breathed and touched his bare chest. Toorus eyes softened – they always did when Iwaizumi called him by his first name. But Oikawa couldn't speak up now, he needed comfort, comfort in kissing, comfort in touching, comfort in _fucking_.

He knew Iwaizumi felt the distress inside of him, this dull, cloaking pain that he tried to hide since they left the dinner table this late evening. But he also knew, he'd sense his hungry love for him and how incredibly _good_ his body felt.

So Tooru straightened up, positioned himself straight over Iwaizumis cock and slid down.

Fast.

Twisting his fingers inside the bed sheets he moaned, pain and pleasure mixing beautifully, making him gasp for air as he adjusted to his lovers length. He loved it when he was completely _filled up._

There was no time for Iwaizumi to completely enjoy the hotness that surrounded his cock, as Oikawa started moving already. Barely keeping a steady rhythm, he rode him, desiring nothing more than sweet release and the high that'll numb his mind afterwards.  
That, and being so damn close to the one he loved the most.

Swept away by his lovers desire, there was no other wish taking in Hajimes mind, than to fuck him hard, until both of them came. With the burning knot in his groins, he held on tightly to Oikawas pretty hips, his nails digging inside of them, as he pushed him down even further onto his cock.

Even though they had shared their bodies several times before, Iwaizumi loved the way Toorus face looked when he was feeling him, how he whispered his name eagerly and how he bit his lip when he was hitting his spot. Freeing one of his hands off the grip on Oikawas hips, Iwaizumi was quick to put it on Toorus glistening dick – he jacked him off with the same eagerness his hips were thrusting now into him.

Throwing his had back, Oikawa groaned as the intensity in his cock and his insides grew tighter and tighter with every movement.  
He opened his eyes, gaze fixed on the ceiling above him.

It could have been the same ceiling that they had stared at for years.

One night it was the one at Iwaizumi's room, one night the one at Oikawa's and on special occasions it was the one in the library when they allowed themselves to hide away from the noise of the schoolyard, needing the comfort of each others presence alone.  
Oikawa had loved him even then; when the both of them had never told each other, never made a hint about their adoration, never questioned how they could mind talk, never questioned why they felt pain when they got separated for too long, never second guessed why they were able to feel what the other was feeling.

It was the same ceiling even now and Oikawa called out for him, whispering _Hajime_ , and pleading _Yes, right there_ 's over and over again, until the point when his body surrendered to the penetration and came.

Hard.

Sending electric waves from his inside through his whole body and making his heart flutter when he heard Iwaizumi grunting, painting his insides with a thick layer of white.

As both looked at each other, grasping for air, the midnight's silence flooded the house yet again. Iwaizumi was the first to move, pulling Oikawa down to his chest. Kissing the crown of his head, their sweated bodies felt each others heat. That, and Oikawas freshly spilled cum that now stuck to both of them. “What was that about?”, Hajime asked and Oikawa knew him too well. Of course he wouldn't let it slip, of course he had felt the dull pain in his chest. Oikawa pressed a soft kiss to Iwa-chans chest.

He wanted to tell him, he really did.

Lying was never an option, especially not when it came to Iwaizumi Hajime – even without the divine bond they shared, Iwaizumi would still read him like a book and if there was anything this man could smell from ten miles away with added headwind, it was _lies_.

But the existential pain Tooru was experiencing rose out of fear inside of him. It was fear he had felt in the moment he had tested Kuroo at their kitchen table this afternoon.  
Either, gold or gray were the people when he saw through their soul.  
Either, their intent was good, or bad.  
Either they lied, or they spoke the truth.  
But Kuroo Tetsurous soul has been black.

 _Pitch black_.

And Oikawa didn't know what it meant.

It was the last bedroom that was placed at the end of the first floors corridor.

Akaashi Keiji laid wide awake in his bed, after he woke from another of his nightmares. There were no scary images, no one dared to hurt him, tried to kill him, nor did he see his loved ones pass away in front of his own eyes.

Akaashi Keijis nightmares were far worse than that.

They were black. It was complete darkness.  
There was nothing he was able to see, smell or hear.  
It wasn't any sort of paralysis because he definitely wasn't 'awake'. In his dream he did move, but he would walk through endless tales of pitch black nothingness, an endless void that had greeted him as his one and only guest.

He felt alone. So alone and every time he woke up his eyes were wet from the tears he spilled, his body covered in sweat, heart racing.

  
The first time it happened, he would spend the whole night awake, analyzing the bizarre dream state he has been in. But it wasn't a one time thing.

  
It wasn't a temporary dream, caused by some physical factor that he just had to solve in order to reduce his stress. The nightly void visited him almost on a regular basis now, granting him the littlest amount of deep sleep, before he'd wake up, all sweaty and crying again. Soon, Akaashi had figured what he saw every night. It was no imaginary place his brain had thought out to cope with his stress and fears, some side effect the war had put on his mind.

It was him.  
It was his soul.

Every night, Akaashi Keiji was forced to look at his most inner being: lost, lonely, forgotten, afraid. It was the growing pain that had formed in his chest since the two of them parted.  
Since his love has left him.

Rejected by the one you not only wanted, but needed, in a world where you have nothing left than your desire to fight for those you love the most.

  
Akaashi felt so empty without him.

  
Three years ago, Bokuto Koutarou decided to leave him behind. Without any reasonable explanation, only with a mere 'Goodbye' and vague words that were ought to make him understand.  
But Keiji couldn't understand.  
Remembering how he left Akaashis paralyzed body on the cold kitchen tiles of their former station, was too painful, still too real.

“ _There is something my soul urges me to do. I know it's my purpose, the reason why I was blessed with a divine bond. If I don't follow it, I'll die unhappy. I know it. It's important, it only can be. You will be fine without me, I know you will. And you know I love you, I always did and will do forever, Keiji_.”

The expression Akaashis face had held that moment was more than just painful. It was more than feeling betrayed or rage pumping through his veins – it was desperation. With his hand pressed on the point of his arm where the needle had pricked him, he sunk to the floor, as firstly his legs, than his feet gave in to the sedative. Fighting to stay awake, the golden eyes in front of him became blurry, his vision deceiving him with now two, no, three Bokutos occupying his view. But his purpose had had to be tied to his own, right? That's what they have been told all along, together, divine lovers would change the world and help it grow, to bring the godly blessing back to earth.

To nourish.

To heal.

And yet he left him behind, without turning back, he walked out the front door, closed it softly behind him and the last thing the deep green that were Keijis eyes made out was his broad back.

Akaashi swore himself to forget it, even if it meant cutting out his own heart – there was a war to win, people to save and a country to repair. And all he did was sulk the minute his mind wasn't occupied on how to break down the enemies base, where to get weapons from and how to demolish the shameless propaganda that Lord Washijou couched elementary schools, libraries and temples in. With gritted teeth he hid his face in his pillow and dared himself to scream. In the end, he didn't.

He still remembered what Bokuto smelled like and how he loved hiding underneath the sheets of his bed, whenever he was allowed to stay in for the morning. There was so much he missed about him. Longingly, he pulled his sheets closer and for a second he really did believe the tangy, calming scent that was Bokutos still lingered around him.

With a stinging heart he still felt his skin burn where he was marked by him when they had made love. Keiji had loved the way his partner had always been so honest with him; how bluntly he'd challenge him to improve his combat skills when they trained and how eagerly he praised his body when they became one, never holding back with the endless reasons he adored Akaashi for.

The desperation to reunite, to hold him in his arms grew the more Akaashi allowed himself to dwell in his memories and he yet again was reminded of the bittersweet darkness his soul was.

“Fuck..”, he whispered now being fully aware that he was half hard.  
If it wasn't for the privacy he enjoyed at night, he'd have just indulged in the emotional pain that the separation of Bokuto and him brought with itself. But since he missed all of him, it was the touch too he couldn't forget.

He didn't want to get off to the image of his past lover in mind – or to the past experiences, to be exact.

But whenever he tried to avoid the reappearing dream of Bokuto and him, their bodies intertwined, being held, being fucked until he was leaving scratches on Bokutos wide back, forgetting himself in the pleasure and desperately begging for release afterwards, his mind wandered.

  
It wandered to the one slip up, that made Keiji keep to himself afterwards, not letting his pain seek through his visage, scolding himself whenever his mask broke. He did not allow his mind to wander and to allow another mistake: so he gave himself permission to remember the one he yearned for the most, to crave what he has been missing for years now.

His hand worked eagerly around his cock, softly groaning as he quickly reached his peak and came with a hot, white line all over his stomach. His mind still clouded from his previous high, he tried to ban Bokutos whispered _I love you_ 's that were still etched into him, and he wanted to replay whenever he missed him.

But he didn't allow him to indulge into the longing.

He got off the bed, cleaned himself up and pulled the blanket over his head as he suited himself back into the still warm mattress. Maybe if he fell asleep in complete darkness he wouldn't be able to tell the real one from the one his soul was apart.

The morning sun was vividly shining down on the glistening coat of thick white. Not a single drop of snow had touched earth since the night they found Kuroo, but with the withering snowstorm came a new low of heavy frost that turned the powdery white into solid chunks of ice. So Iwaizumi made it his duty to free the houses and garages entrance, as well as their training field from the hindering ice blanket. With a mere shovel in his hand he smashed the blade into the hard layers of frozen snow and pushed the rusty tool deeper into it, his feet applying more pressure onto the blade, adding more force to the action. He took of his densely lined bomber jacket and threw it carelessly to the ground. He wasn't sweating, but quickly grew hotter with every movement.

“Don't take off your jacket, the weather isn't as mild as it seems”, a soft toned voice told him, making him swirl around in surprise.

 _Kozume really is a pro at sneaking up on people_ , Iwa-chan thought to himself as he looked at the agile body of the gold-eyed cat, his posture now completely hidden away by the long, cargo parka that protected him from the cold.

“It'll take a while to get rid off all of that here”, with a wide hand gesture the man with the spiky hair presented the small mound of snow he had build so far. Kenmas eyes scanned the area around them, before he kicked off the thick snow layer of the old bench that had its place right next to the front doors porch and sat down on it.

Naturally, there was no need for any unnecessary interior design or extra comfort when it came to their housing. Their stations were meant to serve a purpose. To rest, seek shelter, eat, get medical treatment and wait for their next steps to unfold. From the loveless, cold kitchen, the impersonal bedrooms, those dull, black couches that plainly faced each other in the living room, to the weird looking plastic succulent that served as the hideous centerpiece to their flat, glass coffee table, Oikawa had found on their way to their current home.

  
If you could call it a home to begin with.

  
So little bits and pieces they allowed themselves to own added to the safe space that their 'home' was.

And Kenma enjoyed sitting on the bench (even if it already splintered here and there), when everyone was sleeping; it was nice to listen to the sounds of the sleeping forest, or to the the crunch of the frozen snow while Iwaizumi was working.

  
Kenma debated if he should actually get up and help the buff man in front of him, but how much of a help would he be, when it was hard enough to push the shovel down the ice layers and enjoying the mornings sun, soft, warm touch was such a rare opportunity (also, he really didn't want to get all sweaty now).

Suddenly, the front door opened with a swing and the jet black bedhead that Kuroo was, peeked outside. His sharp eyes caught Kenmas first and lost for words he blinked at him. What was with this small dude, that he always threw the chilliest looks at him? Quickly shrugging it off, he greeted him with a simple: “Morning.”  
Kenma shifted his gaze back to Iwaizumi.  
“Morning”, he mumbled, trying to not let his annoyance slip though.

Unsuccessfully.

“Oi, need a hand?”, Kuroo turned his attention to Iwaizumi now. Making his way down the porch, he adjusted the knitted, woolen turtleneck Kenma mad out to be Oikawas by the way it fit him almost perfectly. “You're sure about that? Don't you need a bit more rest before going all in again?”, Iwaizumi eyed him skeptically, his hands resting on the flat handle grip of the working tool. Kuroo simply rose his shoulders. “Nah, I'm fine. Really.”

Actually, Kuroo did look very...lively in a way. Yesterday he already had beamed with an unnatural energy that Iwaizumi believed to be just his returning life force, reclaiming its natural habitat that was his body. But Kuroo looked shockingly fine today, leaving the impression that a good nights rest was all he needed to get back on his feet. It was not only a bit weird, it was downright _strange_. No one was able to recover that quickly, even though the human body could push its limits far over the believed maximum in times of need. But after collapsing from exhaustion, barely escaping frost bites – or even worse: freezing to death -, running around like a curious dog was nearly insane! Iwaizumis look remained skeptical as he scanned the man in front of him.

Standing there in his boyfriends turtleneck, the black pants ripped at the knees, dirty leather boots covering his feet, Iwaizumi could have thought he'd seen a photography come alive of the Kuroo from the winter boot camp they visited in their late teenage years.  
If it wasn't for the scar cutting his left eye.

“Alright, if you say so. But you carry yourself back in if you break down, you hear me?”, Iwaizumi threatened him, before pointing to the garage on the right side to the building. “Go and get yourself a shovel if you still feel fine enough.”

Kuroo did as he was told and accompanied Iwaizumi without asking any further questions. Kenma figured, that he might have developed some sort of respect for the other male.

“Listen”, Haijime then started out of the blue and the black cats hazel eyes shifted towards the man with the spiky hair. Not stopping shoveling the snow away, his eyes still fixed on the hard, white ground, he asked: “What did you mean when you said you 'just woke up'?”

Kuroo held in to his motion. It was just the tiniest moment though. Iwaizumi might not have noticed, but Kenma catched the second when his lips twitched, hinting to an unpleasant memory or feeling. But when Kuroo spoke his voice was as neutral as ever: “I just woke up. I was laying face down in the muddy bank by a river in the middle of fucking nowhere. All I carried with me was my backpack and the things that were inside of it.”

 _The things that were inside of it?,_ Kenma asked himself.

  
Iwaizumi listened attentively, letting him room to fully and freely express himself.  
“I just knew I was hungry and thirsty. Sounds odd, but I just kept walking in the direction that felt right for me. Sure, you obverse your environment and try to make sense out of the disastrous state over a while, but when you're alone you just have yourself and..do whatever feels right when it comes to surviving, I guess.”  
Kenmas eyes were locked to the steadily higher and higher climbing sun on the bright, baby blue sky, but his ears were glued to Kuroos words. Just going towards what feels right, huh? He did mention that before yesterday.  
“How long did it take to find civilization though? I mean, you mentioned you'd work as a daily laborer.” With some pressure Tetsurou pushed the shovels blade into the hard snow, and with a crack the icy layers inside of it broke down.  
“Mhm, could have been a few days, could have been weeks. Seriously, when you're alone time moves differently. Especially at the beginning.”  
That remark hurt Kenma in a way.  
Partly, because it was very true.

“I figured, that it was easy to find jobs at the farms on the countryside or outlying districts of some towns. Oh, plus the endless bars and cafes in overrun tourist areas.”  
“Why didn't you just stay somewhere where it has been nice?”

  
Iwaizumi faced him now and the question did seem to have taken Kuroo by surprise. He formed his lips to a crooked smile and scratched the itching spot behind one of his ears, not appearing to care at all.  
"I could have stayed..somewhere, I think. I've met some nice people along the way, but it's not that I planned on staying to begin with. Like I said, it just felt right to be on the move.”

There certainly has been a time which made Kuroo consider settling down and giving his restless story an end. Stop trying to fill the empty vessel he was with meaningless experiences and impressions of faces and places which weren't the same and yet, in the end, looked all alike.  
Though he didn't plan on telling about it.  
There was little to nothing Kuroo could call his own or part of his life. That little bit of something he created along his way felt way too precious and special that he'd easily give it away.

  
Though, meeting those ex soldier who magically saved his life felt like more than a pure coincidence. Then again, maybe it was only the sheer luck he experienced, that was just a bit too overwhelming to progress.

“You know Kuroo, I'm curious, you hinted that you could fight, right? Do you feel fit enough for training?” Both men starred at each other, the winters cold breath swaying upon their bodies. Kuroo broke the moment with an anticipating smile, somehow feeling oddly excited about the offer.  
“For sure.”  
Iwaizumi returned the eager grin of his companion.  
“Good. Let's finish this up then.”

Kenma found the scenery in front of him weird, somewhat annoying even.

It was strange for his former best friend to be suddenly as healthy as humanly possible, but the way he and Iwaizumi seemed to bond over the mere chance to throw some punches and to kick the others butt seemed to humor the black and blonde cat in a rather grim way.

But buff knuckleheads always did what buff knuckleheads could do best, right?

“Kozume-kun, were's Iwa-chan? I thought the both of us would stay in this morning!”, Oikawa attacked him from the side and Kenma furrowed his brows by the sudden noise (that and the complete overuse of information Oikawa Tooru was always so willing to share). “Outside. On the training field”, he answered quickly, trying to pass by so he could climb up the stairs and nestle back into his bed, before Akaashi would return home from his daily security check up.

“Eh? Alone?”  
“No. With Kuroo”, Kenma answered.  
Oikawas chocolate eyes widened, before his face turned into a pout. “Stupid Iwa-chan, always doing the fun stuff without me, befriending everyone before me, ugh, I hate it!”

  
And then, out of nowhere, Tooru grabbed the small males sleeve and dragged him back to the front door. Kenmas face changed quickly to an angry state, his eyes glaring up to his friend.

  
“What do you want from me? Let go!”, he hissed and tried to break free from Oikawas surprising – but in no way shocking – sudden, strong grip. He twirled around and spat a snarky remark back at him: “Kozume-kun, get some fresh air, stop playing this boring PSP games whenever you have free time and come with me! You don't even have to watch Kuroo, you could work on your combat skills as well, y'know?”

The look Kenma shot at him made Tooru swallow his tongue – there was always something eerie when Kenma got _really_ angry.

“ _Let. Go._ ”  
His words were sharp and clear.

Oikawa wanted to say so much, but knew it wasn't right to rush his friend.  
As flexible and objective as Kozume was normally, he was the most headstrong person when it came to his feelings.  
And fears.

  
“Ever thought about turning things around now?”, Oikawa merely said and in this moment something pushed Kenma over the edge.

  
With a now stone cold expression he starred Oikawas confidence down – letting go of Kenmas sleeve he apologized, and added a sincere: “I didn't mean to hurt you.”  
It was hard to swallow his anger down, it made Kenma irrational and formed a painful knot inside his stomach, making him feel actually sick when it was really bad. Even though he knew Oikawa never meant any harm when he cared, he still felt annoyed and just wanted to get away from anyone that was living underneath this goddamn roof.

So he left the house, heading straight into the forest, completely ignoring that Oikawa was calling out his name.

In winter, the sun went too sleep earlier than in summer. Not, that the moon would do a better job, since she usually hid away behind some puffy, gray layers of clouds – and if she dared to greet anyone by night, the treetops would have swallowed every ray of the milky white light. The sun was already aiming for the finish line when Akaashi found Kenma sitting on the pier of a small, oval shaped lake, his legs dangling from the platform, his feet almost touching the thick layer of ice underneath him.

  
They have found the lake last year in summer, when they have moved into the abandoned building. Judging by the state the lake was in it as they found it, it probably has been part of the property, despite the fact it took a small foot marsh to get there.

“I've figured you'd be here”, Akaashi directed his words towards the sulking body in front of him. As Kenma felt the wood underneath him move lightly, his friend approaching him, he lowered his gaze. He didn't feel like talking now, even if it was Akaashi.

As the green eyed owl sat next to him he waited for Kenma to adjust to his presence. He watched the snow falling from the trees branches, giving in to the weight of the frozen water, listening to the occasional cracks of snapping wood and the beautiful sing sang of the birds who dared to stay in the coldest of seasons.

“How do you feel?”

Akaashi had to ask after what Oikawa told him. Even a low grumble would suffice as an answer for him.

“Fine”, Kenma answered, appearing a bit offhand, still not looking at Akaashi, the golden orbs on his face followed the movements of a blackbird that hopped erratically through the shiny snow. “That's good.” Keiji observed the man beside him, his eyes lingering on the view of his long, black lashes, the gold shimmering iris that never gave away even a hint of what he was thinking. His round cheeks and snub nose had turned red from the cold air by now. Akaashi tilted his head, concerned.

“Do you want to talk about it?”  
Kenma shook his head, strains of black and blonde falling in his face. Red, numb fingertips pushed them aside, but Akaashi was quick to notice and grabbed his hand mid movement.

Caught by surprise the smaller male wanted to resists the touch but felt the burning sensation when Akaashis hand held his.

  
“God you're cold. How long have you been sitting here?” Not even getting the chance to say something, Kenmas ears and cheeks were covered by the softness of Keijis palms now and immediately his skin started to tingle and itch as cold and hot connected. He hadn't seen him upset in a long time. Usually, he was cool and collected, his blunt nature earning a few dazzled looks from time to time, but Akaashi Keijis default nature wasn't overly emotional. “You should start taking proper care of your body, Kenma.”

Kuroo had told him the exact same over and over again in the time they've been together. Nagging and scolding him whenever he forgot his jacket or skipped breakfast, staying up late at night to play video games, Kenma knew his intentions were good, but always told him off to go play mom for someone else.  
He deeply regretted that now.

“I know you're upset Kenma. It's okay. But everyone copes with it differently. You know I am here for you.”

  
Right.

Akaashi was loyal and unconditionally always by Kenmas side. He felt his stomach turn, his bad conscience growing more and more as he asked himself: Has he been there for Akaashi lately?  
Kenma softly laid his fingers over Keijis slender, long ones, trying to give a comforting touch back. “Thank you. Please remember to confide in me as well.”  
"I will”, Akaashi replied, his eyes gently lingering on Kenmas face.

“Do you believe in what Kuroo has told about himself?” The question caught him off guard and unfortunately, the heat in his abdomen that could only be a clear sign of reappearing anger, arose again.

“What do you mean?” Kenma released himself from Akaashis touch. Already picking up on the defensive body language of his friend, he kept on asking carefully: “Do you think it's real? His amnesia, having no identity and being neutral in an open civil war?” Kenma bit back: “How am I supposed to know that?” Already realizing that he overstepped his boundaries, Akaashi withdrew from Kozumes sharp eyes. In this moment the blackbird he previously had kept an eye on flew over their heads to its next stop on a nearby tree branch, warbling while doing so.

“I just thought because...”

The words trailed away into silence.

“Because I knew him best”, Kenma finished and was granted with no response.

So he was right. “I am no mind reader, Keiji. That's not Kuroo anymore, while he looks like him, the personality is different.” Akaashi bit his tongue. He would remain silent, for his friends sake.

“Even if so”, he started, his eyes scanning Kenmas for any concerning reaction, “he is part of us for now. And I witnessed his strength today on the training field. His combat skills are exquisite, as well as his knowledge and use of weapons and firearms. I am certain now that he is trained or was trained as a soldier. Or it's just some..leftover of his previous life.”  
“Don't say that”, Kenma shot at him quickly. Keiji swallowed his sigh.

“Either way, it doesn't matter. I told you yesterday, that our station at the north-east border needs a whole resetting of the system. I believe it's best when we set out while it's still dark. 4 am to be precise.”

Kenma was about to let out a tired groan, before Akaashi surprised him with another, bitter-sweet detail.

“We're taking Kuroo with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, with the second chapter being finished, we finally get the whole story rolling!  
> ..and yeah maybe (just maybe) I'll make Akaashi suffer quiet a bit in this story. But I love him, so he'll be fine!
> 
> (for now)


	3. Gods Server

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This chapter took more time, since it's a bit longer than the others. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Mentioning of minor character death

“ _...furthermore, Lord Washijous men still occupy largest parts of Miyagi, pushing the rebels land even more into the north.”_

“ _Seems like they really wanna push us over the edge, huh?”_

“ _Well, since none of us is really eager to take a little bath and swim over to Hokkaido, I suggest we better keep our ground and kick Washijou back to the capitol city, don't you think?”_

“ _Agreed, Mattsun – with the railway system on repair and our usual air routes blocked by the military's air force, Miyagis front is short on supplies. But when it comes to us rebels, we're like cockroaches.”_

“ _You mean we'd survive a nuclear blast?”_

“ _I meant the 'dying-of-thirst-when-beheaded-after-10-days” shit, but yeah- that too.”_

The conversation of the two radio hosts was interrupted by a loud static noise that now filled the room of the Jeep. After a few seconds it fell silent, but the broadcast stopped.

Akaashis eyes were fixed on the road – if you could even call it that. The streets were covered by the thick layers of ice and snow, almost invisible to see if it weren't for the frozen car tire tracks. Kuroo couldn't stop himself from peeping out of the window, looking over the partly broken guardrails, which were the only real hindrance between the moving vehicle and the open mouth of the deep gorge right beside them. Kuroo wasn't explicitly afraid of heights but the risk of losing control of the car and dying before making it to their goal was a very realistic possibility.

“Is that the rebels special radio frequency?” He asked, trying to distract himself from the potential death right underneath them.

Akaashi shook his head lightly. “It's a public radio station, everyone is free to listen. It's main task is to work as an emotional support system for our allies all over the country.” He paused before he continued, squinting his eyes before gently switching into the next gear, his gaze still locked to the road ahead of them. “..and as propaganda, of course. Washijou should always know that we're on the move, planing our next steps of how to regain lost parts of our former home.”

The black cat on the backseat nodded, and Akaashi shot a quick glance through the rear mirror, his green eyes scanning the hazel ones, before turning his attention back.

“We have our own, modified wristwatches that function exactly like a radio set. Adjust the frequency to a preferred area and your are free to talk with whoever you need to.” He showed the shiny, black leather wristband with the square, kind of hefty looking body. Kuroo did notice them wearing all the same watch before. With Keijis right hand back on the wheel, he explained further: “It's basically a walkie-talkie. Our you connect it with wireless headphones, depending on what your mission is. Of course it's just a simple wristwatch, the range of the signal is not the biggest – you can't talk with someone at the other side of Japan. Still, it's impressive for what it can offer.”

“Clever, really”, the companion in the back admitted and his eyes trailed back to the broken guardrails.

“Yeah. To be honest it took some time for everyone to have one, we can't just produce them in masses. But with the basic instructions Kenma shared with our servers everyone was able to build one themselves.”

“Heh, so you tell me this grumpy kitten did that all by himself?” Kuroos head shot forward, hovering between Akaashis and Kenmas seat now, as he inspected the sleeping face of the figure with the giant hoodie underneath its parker. The hood was pulled down to the small nose, covering his eyes. _So, that guy's really the brain of them, huh?_ , he wondered quietly.

Even when he was sleeping, he was frowning.

His mouths corners were turned downwards.

Kuroo suppressed a chuckle.

“Even when he's asleep he carries this sour expression.”

“That's because I'm not sleeping you knucklehead”, Kenma hissed, turning his head to the right, facing the window now, as he watched the snowy tips of the mountains that peeked through the densely grown forest.

The sun was just starting to rise now.

Kuroo flinched over the rough and sudden demeanor, while a smile laid on Akaashis lips.

“Kozume is by no means a morning person.”

“I figured”, Kuroo simply stated, leaning back into his passenger seat.

...That guy really hated him.

It must have been two or three hours (Kuroo didn't keep an eye on the time) when the car stopped at the foot of a mountain. After a not so surprising longer march through the frosty snow of the woodland, two bulky buildings appeared, slowly coming out of their hiding spot that the deep green and white of the forest were. Each was long and rectangular, facing the other and the old, gray front of the once white buildings with the many dirty windows, neatly arranged in a symmetrical line, gave them the look of two antique bedside rugs that grimly tried to stare the other down.

“Are these-”

“Barracks”, Akaashi answered Kuroos question right away. “They are old, I actually don't know when they were used the last time, could have been around the 80's, who knows. They were already abandoned when we discovered them. It looks like ruins but they are okay from the inside, electricity and water is still running, that's all we really need.”

As they walked up two the first of the two buildings, the one on the left side, Akaashi quickly noted: “The two radio hosts – Matsukawa and Hanamaki –, we'll meet them soon. On the mountains peek is a transmitter mast, but the signal is a bit shaky.”

Kuroo remembered the disturbed broadcast in the car.

As they stepped through the front door, an immediate heat almost blew Tetsurou out of his socks

– compared to the bitter cold outside, the stale, warm air in the barracks made his skin prickle instantly and he quickly got rid of his jacket.

Akaashi was right, the house looked like a ruin: but from the outside _and_ the inside. Though, it wasn't like Kuroo had actually lived in a nice proper home before, so he'd know what the right way – the cozy and comfortable one – of living would look and feel like. At least, not in this part of his life he was able to remember.

The sound of hard soles on the tile floor echoed through the long, empty hallway right to the foyer and two men – each of them wearing knee high leather boots, cargo pants, as well as black turtle necks – approached them.

 _Aren't they hot?_ , it passed Kuroos mind, who still tried to get comfortable with the sudden change of temperature.

The one with the black, curly hair shoved the other one with the short, strawberry blonde head before chuckling. Both of them seemed pretty caught up with themselves.

Of course Akaashi had told everyone who was currently stationed at the base, that Kuroo has come back to life.

He just hoped the both of them would mask their real feelings well enough for Kuroo to not get suspicious.

As Makkis and Mattsuns eyes shifted from one another to the group of men in front of them, it seemed as if both wore their warmest and most welcoming smile. It was quiet the unusual look for the two jokesters – it almost seemed mocking - but maybe it was just their way of coping with the situation. Hanamaki was the first to speak: “Akaashi, Kozume, good to see you. And good to see a new face too.” The last words were directed towards Kuroo, Matsukawa gave the rooster head an attentive nod.

“Say again, what's your name?”, the curly head asked and emerged from behind his partner.

“Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Nice to have you with us Kuroo, we're always happy about people picking the right side”, Makki casually remarked and Akaashi wanted to correct him, letting him now that Kuroo in fact did not pick a side _yet_ , but Matsukawa quickly interfered: “By the way, Yahaba already sits all day in that damned administration room, pretending he's a hacker man.” He wiggled his fingers, pretending he would type words on a keyboard and Makki couldn't fight his laugh: “Well, actually he's just trying to adjust the signal so the screen can pick up the live recording of our drones, but up until now, he only succeeded in cursing with every swear word known to man.”

Kenma sighed. “Idiot, what is he trying to accomplish? We need to shut down or electricity system and then start anew – he should know that by now. It might take some time to adjust the settings, but that's what it takes to clean up the mess Washijous men have created here.”

The tone Kenma was carrying in his voice let the others step back as he made his way through the hallway, heading right to the room, that infamous Yahaba guy was apparently wasting his time in.

Kuroo starred at Kenma, wondering, if it was still the side effect of him being tired or if he usually was that straight forward when it came to business.

He'd appeared a bit more quiet and nonchalant most of the time and up until now the man with the bedhead thought, Kenma only used that tone with him.

“When you're that small you have to make up for it somehow”, he mumbled and Akaashi couldn't help but overhear his words. “What do you mean?”, he asked but Makkis and Mattsuns grinning faces might have been the answer the green eyed owl was looking for.

“Y'know, Kozume is always a bit scary. But he means well”, explained Matsukawa, crossing his arms as his gaze moved to Kenmas silhouette.

“Sometimes”, Makki added on, amused by the situation and they followed the small cat.

“Yahaba, don't act on impulse and think for a second”, Kuroo heard Kenma scolding from inside the administration room, waiting patiently in the hallway for him and Akaashi to return.

“Yeah, it's pretty unnerving to not know what's going on outside these goddamn rotting walls, you know? They have successfully taken this base over once, who says they won't do it again?”

Kuroo followed the conversation eagerly. It was fun to not be the poor soul that got snapped at from Kozume, for once.

“The chances of them taking us over are lower when everything's working properly, so stop touching something you have no understanding of.”

Ouch. That was harsh.

Silence followed Kenmas remark. Then, a frown.

“I'll get it, I'll get it, sorry. I'll go prepare your rooms, I sadly believe Makki and Mattsun are probably too busy with themselves.”

“Too much information”, Kenma remarked, and Kuroo imagined the sour look his face probably carried now.

Footsteps approached the door and it only opened halfway, as Yahaba directed his attention back to the golden eyes behind him.

“Weren't your supposed to come with-”

He stopped mid sentence, for a moment it was weirdly quiet.

Did the guy swallow his tongue?

Then, with a fast motion the door swung open and Yahaba found himself facing the man with the scarred eye.

Kuroo scanned the guy in front of him: he had soft features, his light brown hair matching the color of his eyes. Yet, their was a fierceness in his look, despite the expression he gave him.

Open mouth, widened eyes, frowned brows, his shoulders stiff and raised.

He looked like he'd just seen a ghost.

“Er, Sorry”, Kuroo stuttered and like being freed from a spell, Yahaba snapped out of his shocked state, throwing a quick _Sorry_ , at him. “I'm Yahaba Shigeru. Nice to meet you.”

For sure, Shigeru sounded friendly but his body posture still seemed a bit uptight. Regardless, Kuroo nodded. “I'm-”

“I know, I mean, Akaashi told us. Thanks for helping us out.”

Being pretty observant in nature, Kuroo couldn't get behind the fact, that Yahaba seemed so _tense_ about him, unlike the two radio hosts he'd just met.

In a way, he felt guilty. He wanted to calm him down, somehow convince Shigeru, that he wasn't all that bad, regardless of his dark appearance. But Yahaba left him no chance, already telling him, he'll be off to prepare their rooms for the night.

The black cat bit his tongue as a very common, unnerving heat spread in his stomach, making his insides turn.

There it was again.

His strange sixth sense, rising from the ashes to deliver him the message that the future might hold some _ugly_ surprises for him. No, he was sure he'd just witnessed something unpleasant – but he couldn't put his finger on what exactly.

Kuroos intuition was something he could always count on. But sometimes, it was scary – like a bad omen. He easily picked up on small details that usually went unnoticed, at times though, it seemed almost like some sort of _gift_ he had received.

Of course he didn't tell people.

Of course, he would be considered odd, when he tried to convince others that one of his many talents was the ability to actually _smell_ divine lovers apart from the rest of the usual folk.

Before even having properly met Oikawa and Iwaizumi, laying drugged and wounded on the cellar operation table, he was able to distinguish the smell that lingered on both of them from anything else.

It was sweet and heavy and lingered for a long time on every object they touched and every room they went in.

It was also a feeling he got, when he was around divine lovers.

With some it was stronger than with others, he figured it might have something to do with low and high frequencies one was on.

With Oikawa and Iwaizumi, he always got this tingly sensation on his skin, and if Kuroo was a dog, he would have wagged his tail and barked in excitement whenever they were around.

With Akaashi, his inner dog sensed some sort of low frequency. That guy had some heavy air of melancholy and sorrow sticking to him, following him everywhere he went – like a swarm of flies. But that not initiate that he had to be a divine lover – Kuroo usually tried for his ability not to get the best of him.

Kenma on the other hand was hard to figure out: his usual prickly nature made it difficult to get a proper, unoccupied impression of him.

Somehow, he wanted to get on his good side. He wasn't sure why but this silly, metaphorical dog his intuition was, wagged its tail whenever he got the chance to be close to the small cat, contrary to the fact, that Kenma always arched his back when he was close to Kuroo.

Maybe it was his interesting face (those golden eyes really saw through everything), maybe it was simply the way he smelled.

Whenever he passed by, the air would be filled with an intoxicating, pleasant aroma. But he wouldn't ever tell him; that guy would definitely try to kill him in his sleep – or the death glare he seemed to have excellently mastered would certainly do.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were a divine couple as well – their smell could only be associated with the color yellow; vibrant and refreshing.

So why was it, that when he had looked at Yahaba, his inner dog was feeling strangely threatened? Even though it was Yahaba who seemed scared. “I hope it's just the stress”, he mumbled under his breath.

The door was opened and Akaashi stepped outside, Kenma following closely. With the attention now back to his companions, the tall, black cat caught a glimpse of Kozumes angry face.

 _And there goes the second bad omen of the day_ , he thought.

“Ready for a quick hike?”, Akaashi asked.

“Sure?”, Kuroo answered.

“The power generator is next to the radio tower, and – oh, before I forget..” Akaashis figure disappeared, quickly searching for something in the cramped room they have been before – leaving the tall and smaller male in 30 seconds of _very_ uncomfortable silence.

When Keiji reappeared he was carrying a long, jet black, shiny fire arm in his hand. Threatening and yet so provocatively alluring in its nature, Kuroo immediately recognized it as an automatic rifle.

Akaashi held the weapon out to Kuroo and first a bit timid, then with growing confidence, he took it. He knew they didn't order him to kill, but there was potential that his life would be in danger and then he would _have to_.

He looked down on the shiny gun in his hand and wondered if it has been used before – if those bullets ended someones existence already.

“Just some security measures, you seemed to be very comfortable with the rifle at the training session.”

Akaashi remembered the preciseness he had shot with – there has been something so insanely cold and brutal in his eyes as he aimed for their targets.

Was it just the mere reason of it being lifeless, self made dummies or would he show actual remorse when being faced with a real life situation. He hasn't been keen on killing, but would do if it was necessary. He had said it very casually at the dining table that afternoon – too casually maybe.

On their march to the transmitter mast, Akaashi formed the head of the group, while Kuroo shielded the back, leaving Kenma in the middle.

With his new wristwatch that Akaashi had gave him (all due to safety measures, of course), he officially felt like a part of their group, strangely enough, with him having said that he didn't want to be part of the rebels at the very beginning.

Kuroo wondered if Kenma was able to shoot, or if he really was that defenseless. He was by no means a heartless man and very much willing to protect those who were naturally weaker than others, but as much as he liked helping, he disliked people who willingly stayed in a helpless state.

Then again, Kenma didn't seem like the helpless kind: he just wasn't physical when it came to defense apparently.

Having arrived at the mountains peak, a cold, sharp blow of air greeted the group, forcing Kuroo to zip up his jacket all the way up to his chin. Trees and other greens that held out against the rough climate, withered, leaving only snow covered rocks, skinny firs and thin undergrowth behind.

And before them a mighty giant out of metal sore towards the sky, the lengthy, white and red body unmatched in its resilience towards the winds; the head of the mast looked like an insect, extending its antennas towards the thick layer of clouds. Between the howling of the wind, a buzzing noise could be heard and Kenma headed straight to the ice covered electricity generator in front of the radio tower.

He gritted his teeth.

“Completely frozen..we should have brought an ice pick with us.” As the words left his lips, Yahaba emerged from the path between the woods, making his way up to the others. In his right hand he carried a small hammer, with a thin rubber shaft.

“You forgot something?”, he shouted. It was hard to speak against the roaring mountain.

Kenma waved at him and thanked him quietly as he handed him the tool over.

With a precise blow, he threw the sharp blade into the ice and small pieces of it blew in his face. Shielding his eyes with his left arm, he swung back the hammer for another hit.

“If you get tired, I can take over.”

Kenma stopped and simply nodded. Then he continued.

Watching the scenario has he passed by, Kuroo quickly caught up with Akaashi, who walked around the snow covered wire-netting fence, that caged the metal giant that the transmitter was in.

Carrying a rifle himself in his hands, his eyes searched for the sharp cliffs end, dangerously hard to make out, since the thick snow layer hid the mountains end away.

If only one step was too careless, there would be the possibility to fall through the sheet of snow – his body would land on the cold stone, twisting and turning, breaking and disfiguring every limb on his body; with a loud crack his head would burst open like a watermelon, spilling his brains everywhere.

Akaashi flinched at the thought that passed his mind, but in a way, it would make a good meal for the animals hunting in those rough conditions of winter.

Kuroo pulled him out of his inner cinema.

“That's a mighty valley down there, it even has a giant river running through it”, he remarked as he stepped next to the green eyed owl.

Akaashi nodded.

“It's nicely protected by the mountain ranges. With the radio tower close to it and the woods and the river nearby, I'd say that are good living conditions. Why not settle there? Surely some refugees of the war would appreciate it.”

Kuroo has seen the countless homeless and wounded people who lost their home, who fought against Washijous dictatorship, only to find themselves in the poorest sectors of the big cities, forcing to take everything life offered them to survive.

“We can't. The area is filled with landmines.”

Kuroo rose a brow, still inspecting the idyllic picture underneath that offered itself to him.

“That' unfortunate. Thought about defusing them?”

“We have not enough skilled people here with us, nor the time. But it's fine. There is a deep tunnel system running through this area. The mountains provide a good protection and are hard to overcome. We blew up parts of the mountain roads, so it's harder to reach us. The dense forest is a natural cover when they actually pass the hard winds and try to bomb us with their air forces. They sure do damage but as long as they can't map out our exact location or the tunnel system we're good.”

That last remark got Kuroo thinking.

“So you say, as long as just a few intruders are found in your lands, all is good?”

Akaashis slender fingers, covered in tight, leather gloves, ran through his face, desperately trying to brsuh back the hair that the wind had just ruffled.

He nodded, his eyes leaving the scenery at the bottom of the gorges mouth and his usual so serious look intensified.

“Kuroo, how did you learn to fight like that?”

The question was sudden, but not unexpected. While Iwaizumi and Oikawa had been quiet about his skill, praising his holey brain for leaving _that_ kind of information behind, Akaashi seemed to be too realistic, too stern to be satisfied with an answer, that only left even more questions.

Kuroo answered honestly then: “Most of it I already knew. I really can't tell how, it must be a leftover from my previous life. But I was partly trained.”

“Trained?”

Akaashi dug deeper.

Scratching the back of his head, Kuroos eyes searched the horizon for god knows what, clearly visible, that the memories replayed in front of his inner eye.

“I met this dude that was an ex soldier as well, just like all of you.”

Now, _that_ really caught Keijis interest. He was a clever owl, he already figured that Kuroo would have left out part of the complete truth. It was probably out of instinct and reasonable, but it left Akaashi wondering if Kuroo turned into a dishonest man – though he always had his _very_ special way with words.

“A rebel? One of our people?”

Kuroo threw an apologizing look over to him, before shaking his head.

“Sorry, I think he was the same as I. Against Lord Washijou but not fighting for the rebels either. An unbothered, troublesome guy like me.”

A sharp pain struck through Akaashis body – could it be..?

“Anyway, I helped him out at work, he taught me some nice tips and tricks on the side. Nothing more.”

As he finished, Kuroo searched for Akaashis attention, but Akaashi was already far gone. Now it was him, searching for god knows who on the horizon.

The long howling of the wind filled the empty space between them.

Kuroos stomach turned.

There it was again, that weird aura that surrounded him: brooding, dark and sad.

“Where did you meet him”, he asked then.

“Sorry?”

“Where did you meet him? Do you remember?”

Kuroo was unsure if to answer or not. He remembered the mild temperatures, the long nights they spend sitting on the porch, drinking one or two beers after a long day of fieldwork, watching the stars as they cicadas sang their noisy, all consuming songs.

“Okayama. Almost all the way down in the deep south.”

Akaashis face didn't change. He just took the information and seemed to save the file in his all remembering brain.

That was so far away.

 _It couldn't possibly be him? Then again, I don't know what he's been up to since we parted. And to be honest..I don't want to either,_ he thought to himself and turned his back on the picture perfect valley in front of him.

“I see. Excuse my nosy behavior.”

The mountain roared once again, adding some touch of drama to Akaashis exit as the air threw a solid, strong punch at Kuroos face.

His heart stopped suddenly and his inner dog barked, being in full alert now. It was only for a moment that Kuroo had smelled something familiar.

But as soon as it came up, the wind carried it away, letting it fall deep down on the snowy ground of the mine field.

“Ah yes, what the two chefs Matsukawa and Hanamaki serve you today is nothing more than our special beef stew!”, Matsukawa chirped, handing out the hot bowls of food to everyone on the table. “What are the secret ingredients?”, Hanamaki asked the four stern faces looking up to him, and out of them all, Kuroo seemed to be the only one really eager for an answer.

The answer Makki received was nothing less than silence.

“Alright, here comes the big reveal! It's canned, canned, canned and yet again: canned! No fresh ingredients whatsoever, so you can start the day with the bare minimum of energy that this preserved food provides.”

Matsukawa laughed dirty and both of them joined the rest on the dining table.

It was moments like those when the scent and the aura of divine lovers made Kuroos heart pound with excitement and some sort of restlessness.

Pure and light.

“It's all canned food”, repeated Kenma and his eyes were as nonchalant as ever.

“Right Kozume, all is canned, except for the beef – that is frozen”, Matsukawa added on and seemed strangely proud of that. “Yeah, but who knows how long that was laying in the freezer”, Yahaba said and put another piece of the meat in his mouth.

“It's tasty”, Kuroo remarked between his bites, not even bothering to look up from his bowl. He had fought for his food way too much than to not appreciate a home cooked meal.

Hanamaki snorted. “Yeah, all the rich flavors of the world are in there: salt and pepper.”

“Tastes better than rat”, Kuroo replied, still unbothered and very grateful for the meal.

“Rat is not that bad.” Kenmas gaze was fixed on the food, but his implication made everyone turn towards him. Akaashi knew he was speaking from experience and it pained him deeply, even though it wasn't uncommon for people in the poor sectors to grill rats and even sell them on the streets. Mattsun and Makkis eyes met only for a split second but both already knew that it was time to turn the sudden, heavy mood around.

Makki pointed his chop sticks at the shaggy cat, still chewing on his potatoes. “I agree, you better be humble over there. Beef stew is as rare as Yahaba not shooting in his own foot!”

Yahaba almost chocked on his food, while Mattsun let out a loud laugh. Even Kenma held a shy smile on his lips, which Kuroo immediately noticed. It made not only him happy, but Akaashi as well.

“Goddammit, it was only once _and_ back then when we were still in school; how often do I have to forcefully revisit this memory?”

Makki threw a shady look over to Matsukawa. Both decided to stay quiet and let the silence speak for itself.

Needless to say, the rest of supper went on smoothly, and at the end, everyone thanked “chef” Mattsun and Makki for the meal.

It could have been considered a relatively normal day, if it wasn't for the two brooding man that were unable to rest their minds that night.

Kuroo laid on his back, staring at the rusty ceiling light.

The moon granted them a nightly visit and the intensity of the white rays, pointed to the fact, that the next full moon must be close by.

Akaashi had had this weird smell on him as they were on the mountains top this early noon. He was sure about that now.

Kuroo was sensitive in general; his ears usually had no problem picking up the littlest squeak of a mouse, his eyes were sharp and focused, his reflexes quick, his nose could distinguish and name many smells other couldn't. He was sure, his life in the outback had made him that way, formed his senses to reach their highest potential. But the ability to tell divine lovers apart, to actually be _affected_ by them physically, had made him wonder for many years now.

Akaashi had smelled familiar. Kind of..homey even. Not in the intensity of Kenmas scent, that often times left his mind befuddled. Rather, it was a strong aroma of mild summer nights, light rain on afternoons, cicadas chirping through the night, sleeping in a way too small futon and flowers overgrowing the garden.

All the things, he would usually connect to his stay in Okayama.

In that moment, he suddenly remembered his friend Bokutos words from one specific night.

It was that night, that Kuroo had found him watching the stars yet again.

“ _What's with that depressing behavior? Every single night you look so longingly into the sky. Are you sad or just a hopeless romantic?”_

Bokuto usually laughed. He was blunt, enthusiastic and very much annoying with his tendency to just let every emotion roll over him. But he was kind, strong and loyal. That, and on rare occasions even wise.

That stupid owl face of his was really one of a kind.

Yet, Kuroo found himself shocked by the sudden change of demeanor. Bokuto had not looked down from the thousand suns, he just simply replied: _“It's all the same sky we look at, y'know? The perspective might be different, but in the end it will always be the same sun, the same moon, the same stars. It's kind of reassuring.”_

Kuroo sat down next to him, suspicious about where his friend was trying to get with this. He joined him, carefully observing the dotted black canvas above him.

“ _What do you feel when you look at the stars, Kuroo?”_

The cat snorted.

“ _Seriously? You want me to answer in poems as well?”_

Bokutos vibrant, golden eyes gleamed as his gaze laid on the cats hazel ones. Kuroo realized that this indeed was no joke by his friend – he felt bad.

With more compassion than before he answered honestly: _“I normally just enjoy the view, but not for too long. I don't know why, but sometimes I'm like an empty vessel which needs to fill itself. I become painfully aware of my strange, meaningless existence. And so I start longing for something bigger: all of this should make sense somehow, right? I feel like I belong somewhere. That's why I follow my heart. If it tells me to start moving and continue searching for whatever this reason might be, I pack my stuff and leave.”_

 _Wow, I spoke way too much_ , he scolded himself, instantly realizing that he accidentally opened his heart very fast.

“ _Makes sense”_ , Koutarou replied.

The song of the cicadas filled the air.

“ _What about you?”_

Tetsurou found himself hungry for an answer. Bokuto Koutarou was an almost fully transparent person. It was irritating for the rooster head to not be able to read him by a single motion or the tone of his voice.

Bokuto seemed even pained.

“ _I feel closer to home, when I look at it.”_

Home?

Kuroo thought about it. Just like him, his friend lived alone: no family, no pets, not even other people that visited him – at least not in the time Kuroo had been staying at his.

Easing his sore legs and feet, the man with the jet black hair let himself sink to the floor, arms folded underneath his head as his eyes searched for constellation of the big bear.

“ _What is home to you, Koutarou?”_

The broad back of the giant owl stiffened.

“ _You seem lost. Not obviously lost as I am, but you are. So where's your home?”_

Turning his head to his friend, he waited for him to speak up. Kuroo had nothing to offer. There was little to no depth in his life, all his suffering was made of the obvious existential crisis he was. Despite his adaptive nature and cool exterior he was utterly confused. So all that was left was to just accept his fate. If it was meant to be, one day he might stumble upon his so much desired answers.

“ _Well..I'm just taking the long way round before heading home. I am not lost - I think so at least.”_ There was a short pause before he spoke the last words.

“ _I'm just lonely.”_

Kuroo rose his brows and turned up his nose. Loneliness was something he was familiar with. Being alone from the beginning he was used to his hermit life, but even he couldn't deny the lack of emotional depth it gave him. When he was yet again cold at night and no heater, no bonfire, no blanket could shut out this endless snow storm in his heart, he longed for something he could call 'home'.

Usually, he tried not thinking about it or make up in ways that gave him the short term impression of closeness; thanks for his looks and charm, there was always a person willing to take him home, when he wanted to spend the night in someones arms.

But that lasted only for a night and left him hungrier for more.

“ _Then you better start running and go back home quickly! That's a privilege you have there!”_ , scolded him Kuroo.

He knew that his words hit hard; he did not ever mean to hurt him, but maybe the stinging after effect of his statement would push Bokuto in the right direction. It seemed, that he wanted to make up his mind about something, but strangely held himself back.

A sad, faint smile adorned Bokutos face.

“ _I left my divine lover back home. That's why I feel lonely.”_

Kuroos eyes shot open and his body swung forward, searching for his friends face.

“ _For real? That's why your aura is so weird! So you have a divine counterpart? Aren't you hurt – I mean, it hurts right? To be apart.”_

He was obviously concerned now.

The owl on the other hand, looked certainly surprised that his friend did notice somehow. His answer came timid, almost shy. _“Yeah, it does hurt. But that's what it takes sometimes. I just hope he's fine. We parted in an..ugly way.”_

“ _But isn't that kind of the point of your existence? To be together? Why go against your fate?”_

The question made Bokuto smile, he pushed himself, pretended, he wasn't hurt for just a moment and sighed, his usual, careless grin winning his lips over.

“ _The point is to bless this earth and fulfill our soul purpose. That's our fate. And fate takes on various, weird forms. There is no right and wrong way when it comes to following your destiny.”_

There really wasn't, Tetsurou knew that by now. His eyes growing tired, he let the days events pass his mind once again. The whole situation was completely out of the ordinary, even for his standards. He remembered the scent on Akaashi that reminded him of Bokuto and Kenmas pissed remark in the car this morning. Hanamaki and Matsukawas dry, yet funny nature and Yahabas scared face.

Yahaba.

Somehow, this guy let his inner alarm bells ring. He wasn't familiar with him, was he? There hasn't been a situation in which they had met before, right? He didn't smell familiar, there was no extraordinary feeling to his aura per say. And yet, there has been an eerie look on his face that morning.

Shigerus room was at the end of the corridor. He didn't even bother putting the blanket over his body: he would stay awake the whole night. Sleep was impossible to obtain, once his mind wandered to Kyoutani.

It has been three years now.

Three painful, endless years that made him wish, they would have killed Yahaba right on the spot next to him.

They tried to capture them. They wanted to chase them down. They had followed them for days now and in their nativity, both, Kyoutani and Yahaba had believed it was just normal soldiers trying to circle them, thinking, they could give them a quick end, just because they were superior in number.

But fate had a different end for their story in mind and yet again, took a sudden, unexpected turn.

Most divine lovers knew they were hunted.

Lord Washijou let people believe, that divine lovers were the highest good of man kind: they were the reason the earth was breathing, their inventions, their work, their ideas and loving souls kept everything and everyone alive.

But those who lived in the poor sectors, those who had no home, no real family, no apparent value, knew right from the beginning that wasn't true.

They were merely hot good on the meat counter and everyone who had the power felt free to help themselves.

No one knew what they have been doing with those who suddenly 'disappeared', 'died' or got 'transferred' to another sector. All they knew was, that those who disappear would never return.

Only children who didn't know better would talk openly about their divine counterpart, but no one in their right mind would do so, if they valued their life.

The blissful ignorance the divine couples in the wealthier sectors enjoyed must be to die for.

Yahaba remembered those crazy eyes and the fiery, wild hair on top of that long, lean body, as they tried to escape them.

“ _They won't get us. We're not meant to die, our purpose is to keep on living and share their gruesome nature. We need to stop this human trafficking once and for all._ ”

Kyoutani had agreed with Shigerus words. He had known from the moment they realized they fell for each other.

They would have been successful. They would have helped bringing peace to the world.

But none of them was prepared for the inhuman force that had crushed them to pieces.

This readhead has been a monster. There was no way he was a human being.

Too strong, too fast, heard every single step and regenerated way to fast for the normal human metabolism.

“ _I can smell youuu..especially with all that sweet blood you spilled_ ”, he chanted.

Yahaba had decided in that moment, to hide the too wounded Kyoutani in their foxhole. They needed to live. They _had_ to live.

But it all happened too quickly, too fast to comprehend. Once he was out in the open field, chased by their beastly enemy, the sound of the long firearm salvo behind them put a satisfied grin on the redheads face.

“ _Mhmm, looks like your buddy got snatched by my friend there._ ”

Tears flowed from the corner of Yahabas eyes.

They could have shot him too. They could have taken him to the lab and put him in the hands of some disgusting monster.

It all would have been fine, as long as he knew, there was a possibility for Kyoutani being alive. Now his soul _ached_ , it shredded itself to pieces, because it longed for its divine partner.

They couldn't fulfill their soul purpose, they would reincarnate and have to make up for what Kyoutani and Yahaba had failed to do. Every day was a new challenge for Yahaba to give his life new meaning. Still, he felt like he was wasting his time away.

He would never forget the utter desperation to survive that rushed though him, when he had met this redheaded beast. Never would he forget the way the pain bit through every fiber of his body in the exact moment Kyoutani died. As if it was him, who was shot to bits and pieces.

All this fear, this pain, all the desperation, the frustration had towered over him and washed his whole being away the moment he had looked into Kuroos face.

But he wasn't that redhead.

He wasn't.

Kuroo had probably asked himself why he gave him such a strange reaction. Unfortunately, Yahaba didn't know either.

The waxing moon transformed the sleeping forest into a glistening stage of white. It was a scenery out of a dream; The absolute silence that ruled here only allowed the winds and the occasional call of an owl to disturb it.

The fantasy realm faded, as footsteps echoed loud and tactless through the woodland.

“Iwa-chan, at this rate everyone's gonna find us..no matter what, we are way too loud!”, Oikawa whispered, almost blended by the brightness of the snow.

Iwaizumi puffed and brought his finger to his lips, implying for him to finally shout his pretty mouth.

Oikawa rolled his eyes and plainly followed his boyfriend. Now, with Akaashi, Kenma and Kuroo away, it was solely their task to watch the property.

That, and patiently waiting for a message from their friends down in Miyagi.

Daichi and Sugawara have steadily stood their ground, but as the days passed, they were pushed further and further up north from Washijous armed forces.

They were chewing on bones at this point.

The organization of their next moves and administrating their troops was easier in the sheltered wastelands here, but they needed to find their way back to the capitol city.

Oikawa was convinced, judging by the state their country was in now, there was no other option than to straight up kill those, who ruled with an unjust iron fist.

As Oikawa watched his surrounding, his mind wandered back to the “flea market” he grew up in. He and Iwaizumi did, Kozume, Kuroo and Akaashi did too.

Kuroo, Kenma and he grew up on the streets, eventually making it into the orphanage that saved them the potential death of hunger, disease or straight up murder.

People were aware of these conditions and still choose to put their comfort over justice?

He almost walked straight into Iwaizumis wide back, as he wondered why he stopped so suddenly. Scanning the area around him, he quickly caught what made his lover stop.

There was a giant hole in the snow.

Bigger than the one of a fox, smaller than a bear.

“That is a-”

“Burrow, yeah”, Iwaizumi finished and his hand automatically reached for the rifle hanging over his right shoulder. He inhaled the cold air sharply.

“Iwa-chan”, Oikawa started and crouched down, getting a better look inside of the hole. Iwaizumi turned his attention to the man on the ground.

“What is it?”

“We should build or own snow nest and make love in it.”

With a bitter expression Iwaizumi straight up kicked him in the butt.

“Ouch- what? Don't you think that would be kind of romantic? With a few blankets in their, building it spacey enough for two of course-”

“No, Shittykawa, it would not! It would be cramped and cold – you like your dick frozen?” Oikawa threw an innocent smile at him. “You know I love popsickles.”

In that moment, Iwa-chan groaned, grabbed the collar of Oikawas jacket and forced him back on his feet. Rough.

Tooru yelped, shoving his boyfriends hand away. “Ouch, that was too rough! Learn to control your strength!”

“Learn to think before your speak!”

“Fine!”, Oikawa pouted, arms crossed in front of his chest now. Not even waiting for Iwaizumi to cool down though, he asked: “Do you think it was build from a human?”

Iwaizumi inspected the hole. “Mhm, that's difficult to say. It's close to our base though. So it definitely could be.”

“But it's empty though- right?”

Hajime nodded and his calm eyes reassured Oikawa. “The snow is frozen since a few days now. There is no way it was just dug. And Akaashi did not report any incidents or sightings the last days, so we're good.”

Still, Oikawa felt weird about it. The fact that someone had slept close to their house, maybe even watched them..it made Oikawas neck hair stand on end.

The warm, gentle touch of Iwaizumis fingertips found itself on Oikawas cold skin. Cupping his cheek, Toorus eyes caught his.

“Don't worry. It will be fine”, he encouraged him, having felt the fear that arose inside him.

Oikawa leaned forward, his own hand finding that of his lover now, before he kissed him. As they parted, Iwaizumi was greeted by a genuine smile.

“Let's finish that up and head back home. We can have sex in our warm, cozy bedroom – no frozen dicks there.”

And down it went: the oh so blissfully sweet moment had just been destroyed by Oikawas insinuating remark. Out of instinct (and countless, painful experiences) Oikawa jumped to the side before Iwaizumis fist could hit his face.

“Ah, Iwa-chan, don't be scary, I wasn't making fun of you!”

“Just shut your dirty mouth you idiot, before I make you sleep in that fucking ice hole!”

Oikawa did not shut his mouth, but they still found themselves that night in each others arms, their bodies merged as they lost themselves for the time they were allowed to spare, before a cold, cruel morning would a wake them.

It started out with footsteps.

Quiet and soft – sneaking around the empty hallways.

Kuroo did not know if anyone was already awake.

He was now, at least.

First, he had just assumed it was Kenma or Akaashi – both of them were quiet and very subtle in the way they moved.

But these steps were slow and cautious. These steps didn't want to be heard, _someone_ didn't want to be discovered. Kuroo stood next to the bedroom door now, with his right ear on the thin wood, listening for any other possible sound that could erupted behind these walls.

Nothing.

With a quick, fluid motion he stepped to his window and peeked out of it. There were no cars, nor any trails. Just the faint light of the sun, which had just awoke from its nightly rest.

A creak on the second floor made him hold his breath.

What room was above his again?

There were bedrooms on the first and second floor, he wasn't exactly sure if someone was awake or if it were the supposed intruders.

He checked the wristwatch.

7:05 am.

Akaashi had given him a simple instruction on the watch and he hoped he would remember, if it was needed.

The rifle was too loud. It would give away his cover.

Cautiously he checked the drawers of the table that stood in the corner of the bedroom – unused, old and very unloved.

 _Damn I'm a lucky bastard_ , it passed his mind as he discovered the revolver in the top drawer. _How far can I push my luck today?_ , he thought, biting his lip. He checked the magazine.

Three shots left.

_Well, every bit of luck comes with a price, right?_

He had to be very careful now.

There was only one direction to take and that was forward; waiting for whatever was about to happen to crash over him like a tsunami would have been the worst of all options to take.

He opened the door.

Stepping outside in the cold hallway, his heartbeat slowed down – he was fully concentrated now. The rising sun gave him only enough cover in the still, dark house to not get immediately discovered. But the sun moved quicker than most people believed, so he had to hurry.

Who was closest to him?

The last bedroom was Yahabas, so the one between his and Shigerus was..?

 _Kenma_ , it shot through his head and for a moment he fell out of his trance, his heart pounding in his chest.

 _Calm down_ , he scolded himself. Right, nothing has happened _yet_ , there was no reason for panic.

Carefully, he tiptoed towards Kenmas door, peering into the empty hallway once again, before grabbing the door handle, slowly pushing it down.

The door opened with a small creaky sound, and in the dimly lit room, he made out the empty bed that presented itself in front of him.

If it wasn't for his highly polished senses he would have freaked out, fearing, that something might have happened in the time he still has been asleep, but he felt his presence and smelled the sticky sweet aroma that surrounded him.

Before he could even fully step into the room, he heard an oh so familiar _click_ and turning to his left, he found himself looking straight into a guns barrel.

The golden eyes behind it shot wide open, his usual impassive face crumbling, and for the first time Kenma looked relieved to see Kuroo.

Quickly, the tall cat closed the door and Kozume lowered his gun, sighing deeply, as the waves of anxiety subsided now.

“Are you alright?”, Kuroo asked with a flat voice. The small cat nodded and put his gun back into his trousers back pocket. Throwing a fanny pack over his torso, quickly grabbing it from underneath his pillow, he gave a reassuring nod to the rooster head. _Ready to go_.

Kuroo did not know what was in there, but it must be sacred, judging by the way he had shielded it even in his sleep.

“We need to wake up the others first – did you see anything?”, asked Kuroo and Kenmas sharp eyes shifted to the window. His mind seemed far, far away. He was thinking, analyzing, but in the end shook his head, strands of hair falling into his face.

With that, they left the bedroom and on soft paws, they approached the corridors end only to find the door to Yahabas room open.

It was a small gap, only as big as Kuroos hand, yet he was sure that Shigeru must have left to search for the intruders as well – he hoped so at least.

The black cats eyes ran up the room, checking every corner, every niche and he concentrated on unusual sounds that were not the wind howling through the gaps and cracks of the barracks before they went to climb the stairs. With their backs pressed to the wall, he wondered how many people might have broke into the house.

He heard one pair of feet on the first floor – the other was on the second.

There was still a potential for it to be more than two people though and that meant they had to be very careful. He hadn't witnessed Kenmas self defense skills before, which made him worry even more. If it came down to a fight he was fine with protecting himself, but what if they were outnumbered or even worse – something happened to the rest?

As they reached the second floor, Kuroo had to stop his hand from pulling the door-handle of the second floors entrance, and pressed him and Kenma in an unexpected movement back to the cold plastered wall. Kenma flinched and his sharp eyes reflected angry irritation for a minute, before he caught himself and focused his attention back to his environment.

The scent Kuroo just took in, made his stomach turn.

It smelled like death: dark, brooding, hungry and cold.

There was an all consuming aura  beaming close to them and it was made of pain and destruction. 

If divine lovers made his heart raise in excitement, this aura made it stop and shrink down to the size of a grape.

He has never felt anything like that before, never smelled something so bad. He knew what death smelt like, he had the unfortunate pleasure more than one time to experience it.

But that was not death. In all it's absurdity, deaths smell was still natural: It was part of life and part of the cosmos cycle. This though, was completely _artificial_.

His inner dog was fuming. But not out of anger – it was out of fear.

 _Calm down, nothing's has happened yet_ , he told himself over and over in his mind.

With a mere look, he implied Kenma to stay.

He opened the door to the second floors corridor and the aroma of that fouling, gruesome death punched him right in his face. It was bad, really bad, and he held his breath for a second.

Checking out if everything was free to go, he signaled Kenma to follow him.

They were _very_ vulnerable now. Partly, like grassing prey on an open field.

 _We gotta find Akaashi first_ , it crossed Kuroos mind.

But a chilly shiver run up his back and he started to sweat as he felt someones glare piercing through his back from behind. Before Kenma could even comprehend what happened, Kuroo rose his gun and pointed it behind his back, turning his head slowly afterwards.

A pair of deep, brown eyes greeted him: sparkling in a brutal sense of amusement. His blonde hair was wavy, his body build in an athletic way, so that his tight, black pants and long sleeved-shirt showed every flex of his muscles. He raised both, thick brows and held up his hands, surrendering playfully.

“Ah, you got me, you got me. I'm defeated.”

His voice oozed with an almost ridicules amount of confidence. Kuroos eyes caught the two guns hanging on his belt.

The blonde man noticed the way Kuroos gaze had shifted and he remarked: “Oh – these? No, don't worry. I won't use them. I believe we can get you down without these two bad boys here. Right 'Samu?”

The blonde peered over to the man with the gray hair to Kuroos and Kenmas left.

Shit – _how did he not notice him_?

The man called “'Samu” had a pretty unbothered look on his face, but despite the hair color, he looked exactly like the man to their right.

Obviously, they must be twins.

“Yes, 'Tsumu. No need to show off.”

The gray haired man positioned the rifle in his hand in front of him, inspecting the two pale faces in front of him.

He pointed it at Kuroo.

“Look, 'Tsumu. We have a runaway at our hands.”

Osamus twin brother Atsumu grinned out of excitement at the remark.

A double win today. What lucky bastards they were.

“Really, huh? And what about that little guy over there?”

His gleaming eyes fixed on Kenma.

The small cats body stiffened.

Osamu eyed him, clicking his tongue as he understood what his brother implied. “Ohh, I see, I see. I think we hit a vein of gold here with this rebels nest. This one is gonna make Takeda _veeery_ happy.”

He directed his weapon towards Kenma and his finger positioned itself dangerously around the rifles trigger.

At this moment something seemed to take Kuroos body over. He didn't even notice how quickly his hand fired one shot at Osamu and another at his twin brother. He grabbed Kenma, pulled him close and stormed down the staircase, only leaving them with a small increase of lead, but as long as they wouldn't stop, they could make it.

More shots echoed through the building now and above them a window broke into pieces. Where to go now?

On his own, his body told him to head to the great dining room, and he did as he was told. He rushed towards the long tables, pushing them over he quickly searched for cover behind them. Both of them crouched down, and the tall cat tried to make himself as small as possible, hoping his wild strands of black hair wouldn't give their position away.

It was only then, when he noticed Kenmas frantic panting. He tried to keep his nerves under control, but the fear sat deep in his bones.

It has been a long time, since Kenma was so directly confronted with death. When a gun is pointed at your face, you will shiver and flinch, sweat and curse, some cry and pray.

Since Kenma has lost Kuroo six years ago, he had never experienced such a dreadful feeling again, not even, when he was threatened with death. But the feeling those two men gave him was different – what did they talk about again? A gold vein and a person called 'Takeda'.

They could very likely be the hunters Lord Washijou send after divine lovers, but Kenma wasn't one, so he was out of question.

But Akaashi was.

Yahaba, Makki and Mattsun were.

“Are you alright?”, Kuroo asked and threw a quick glance at Kenma.

“I think they search for divine lovers. From what they said, it seems most likely.”

Kuroos expression darkened. “You really think so? Then we gotta get out of here quickly.” Gold eyes glared at him now, furious. “And the rest of us? You want to leave them?!” Kuroo shook his head and quickly peeked over the edge of the dining table.

No one was there, but the salvo of the guns hadn't stopped.

“Of course not, we go and get them first. But I have a very bad feeling about this, these guys don't strike me as the normal..”

The familiar sound of adjusting the pressure of ones finger around a trigger let Kuroo freeze mid sentence.

He turned around, and behind them at the other side of the glass front, which usually gave away the sight of the deep, green forest, stood a man. Long limps, curly, black hair, two beauty marks on his forehead and a black mask hiding half of his face away.

But his black eyes were cold and ready to settle things quickly. Not wasting even a second, he pulled the trigger, breaking the glass in one shot. The destruction rolled over them like a crashing wave and the glass splinters crashed down, bruising their bodies with deep, painful cuts. In an instance Kuroos body shielded Kenmas, bringing his small face towards his chest and while the man on the outside gracefully stepped inside the dining room now, Kenma and Kuroo were already back on their feet, running towards the kitchens door.

Through the kitchen door they went straight back to the hallway and a familiar, static voice could be heard from Kuroos wristwatch.

“Kuroo, are you there?”

Akaashis voice was barely whisper.

Kozumes eyes widened with relief when he heard Keijis voice and only now the black cat noticed that the building had fallen completely _silent_.

It was eerie.

While making their way to the first floors rest room, hoping to spare them some time, Akaashi continued.

“Good. Is Kozume with you?”

“I'm here”, Kenma replied and his voice was weirdly calm.

“Alright. Here's the plan. I made it to the second building. I'm on the rooftop, I have my sniper with me. Kuroo, go outside and make them follow you. I have Yahaba with me on the first floor. Makki and Mattsun are in the forest around the property. All three of them will back you up, we won't use you as pure bait.”

“Got it”, Kuroo answered and his gaze fell on the black and blonde man next to him. “Kozume”, Akaashi said, finishing his orders. “When they are distracted, you run and find Mattsun and Makki. You'll support them then.”

Kenma immediately answered. “Got it.”

Even though Akaashis voice was nothing more than a plain static noise, Kuroo thought there was sentiment in it, when he spoke. “Good luck. We'll see each other soon.”

Right.

They would see each other.

Kuroo opened the bathrooms window carefully and stepped outside.

Now, it all came down to this moment.

The sharp morning air crept instantly under his sensitive, warm skin, his back turned against the buildings, gray and toothy facade, his senses were heightened to the maximum. Each and every step he took, let his panic grew more and more.

There was a risk of him being shot. There was a risk, of him not making it the other side. He would die and not know why he was even born - who he really was.

His face fixed on his destination, he searched the roof for Akaashi, but couldn't make out the figure of the green eyed owl. They would back him up, when things went down. They would be safe, they would make it.

A shot grazed Kuroos ear and twisting around, preparing himself for a fight, he starred at the face of the masked man from before.

Almost casually, he aimed at Kuroo, his eyes mirroring the annoyance he seemed to feel. “Don't even bother trying. You and your friends should stop playing hide and seek with us. We're going to find you, no matter how far you run.”

Behind him, the two twins emerged.

The twins and Kenma.

His arms twisted painfully behind his back, Atsumu pushed him forward, before kicking him in the back of his knee, forcing him to fall over. Kuroo clenched his teeth, his knuckles turning white as his hand only gripped tighter and tighter around his pistol.

“Now, to make that clear, once and for all”, Atsumu spoke and his lips formed a conceited smile when Kuroos eyes followed the movement of his knife, pressing hard against Kenmas throat. “We can make this easy or difficult for you. Both is fine to me. What we're interested in- “ He paused and Osamus hand found its way in Kenmas hair, painfully pulling it, forcing him to turn his face towards the man with the scarred eye. Atsumu continued: “-are guys like this little one here. And there's probably a lot more like him in your crew, mhm? If you're lucky enough you're coming with us.” Atsumus confident smile turned grim. His eyes were sparkling with a lust for murder now.

“If not..”

Osamus weapon was pointed at Kuroo.

“We're gonna blow your fucking brains out.”

It might be strange, but when one was undoubtedly confronted with their last minutes on earth – the ones in which you prepare yourself to die, looking in deaths hollow eyes – one was aware of every single fragment that filled that moment. In the exact moment you would die, you'd also feel the most alive. The last gift, life granted one, before passing away. It might be the way the smoke smelled in all it intensity before a fire would turn you body to ashes, the way the fish sing before you sink to the ground, unable to make it to the surface - the sound of the rubber on the asphalt as you try to navigate your car in another direction before hitting the tree.

Tetsurou noticed everything in that moment. His senses were overwhelmed by the smell of his sweat, the numbness of his fingertips and nose, the twitching of his tensed muscles.

The way Kenmas face dropped, all the panic his expression had held, turning into cold fear now, realizing, it would happen again.

Realizing, he would die.

In front of his own too eyes, he would die again.

And this time he would _never_ return.

Unable to move, all he could do was cry out for him. It was that moment Tetsurou felt his soul ache with the same yearning, the same desire that had forced him to wander the country aimlessly for the past years. In this moment he seemed to recognize something familiar – it was as if he was called home, when Kenma cried out for him, calling him by his name for the first time.

A sudden rain of glass poured onto the three soldiers, when Akaashi shot the glass windows above them. Taking the opportunity, out of the woods, Makki and Mattsun emerged, greeting their enemies with a strong salvo of shots.

Kenma jumped on his feet, dashing over to Kuroo, who grabbed his hand and fled with him into the woods. Meanwhile, Akaashis eyes were _chained_ to the moving bodies on the ground. He was patient and his shots never failed. He was as unerring as a human being only could be. And yet, their moves were so fluid and light as if they could _predict_ where his shots would land. They couldn't hold out against them forever – they just had to retreat in the right moment.

Shielded by the woods, Kenma and Kuroos feet carried them far enough, until it was save to stop. Checking the area, Kuroo reached out for Akaashi: “Akaashi, are you able to retreat? Are you fine?”

His heart was beating heavily in his chest, and he hungrily breathed the cold air in, waiting for a response. It was the stifled moan of Kenma, that made the tall cat turn around, only to find him crouching on the ground, holding his left shoulder in pain.

Blood dripped on the white canvas, painting it with a crimson color. It had happened the moment, the glass windows shattered.

“Shit, how bad is it?” Coming closer, Kuroo watched the blood smeared, shaking hand uncover the clear and round bullet hole in his black hoodie.

“Fuck- okay, stay calm, I got this.” Kozumes golden eyes glared at him, overwhelmed by pain, frustration, fear and anger. He decided not to let his emotions out on the rooster head.

Ripping a long piece off of his sweater, he tied it firmly around the small shoulder and Kenma hissed, hiding his face away.

“Kuroo- Kuroo are you fine?”, Keiji asked, his voice as mild as ever.

“We're in the woods. Kenma is wounded.”

For a moment you could only hear the sound of the fire arm.

“How bad is it?”

“Manageable”, the small cat answered, suppressing the white, pounding pain as best as he could.

“Alright. You go and seek shelter somewhere, we don't stand a chance against them at this state. We are fine. As soon as we retreat we will search for you, we'll stay in touch. Just stay safe.”

Kenmas eyes were filled with desperation – they had to leave them behind. They would part and there was a 75 % chance of them never returning. But there was no time to indulge in worries now.

“We will. Stay safe.”

And with that, they disconnected.

“Kenma, can you stand up?”, Kuroo asked, his body leaning closer to the hunched frame in front of him. Kenma said nothing, his eyes still on the ground, he gave him a short nod.

On shaky legs he stood up and said: “I know where we're safe.”

The tunnels were damp, cold and an unnerving hollow sound echoed through them. Maybe it was the mountains breathing. Kenma had led them to a hidden passageway behind a big, dusty cupboard in a tool shed, which was part of the barracks property.

Climbing down the rusty ladder, they fell deeper and deeper into the mountains underground system. The moment their feet had solid ground underneath them, a thick, metal door blocked their way. Kenma held his wristwatch towards a sensor next to the handle. A _click_ sound could be heard and the metallic wall in front of them opened.

Kuroo didn't know how long they have been walking now; the head ceilings only threw a weak, orange toned light on the walls, giving little room for proper orientation, but apparently Kenma knew the way. According to him, he knew the _whole_ tunnel system by heart and the shaggy, black cat wondered of he had some fort of photographic memory.

Consumed by the sound of dripping water and their footsteps echoing through the darkness, Kuroo almost didn't catch how Kenma suddenly stopped walking. Grabbing his wounded shoulder, he breathed heavily, trying not fall over. Instantly, Kuroo secured him, offering his arms to hold onto. “Need a break?”

Kenma only shook his head, his lips carrying a sour smile as he spoke, trying his best to not let his voice tremble. “..They use special bullets when they hunt..these do not normally splinter in your body – they carry a neurotoxin that will numb your body. It's harmless unless it's treated properly, if not though, it'll spread to your lungs and heart and eventually kill you. And right now-” He swallowed down another wave of pain, before adding on: “I feel it taking a toll on me, already.”

Tetsurous heart stopped for a split second.

He was in a tunnel system, disconnected from his allies and on the run from some inhuman guys, who tried to kill him. And now, Kenma was in life threatening danger?

“How long does it take for it to kill you?”

“It will take some time. We think they use it to keep the kidnapped people still for as long as it takes to get back to the laboratories. It must be around 14 to 15 hours maximum. But my body is smaller and considering my weight, we can subtract the maximum down to 10 hours.”

10 hours. 10 hours should be enough, no – it _had_ to be.

“How long will it take for us to get back to the surface?”

Kenma adjusted his thoughts, opening up the map of the tunnel system in front of his inner eye. “Depending on our speed, it can take up to 6 hours. We are heading back to our base after all. But to be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to walk soon.”

So they had a few hours they could use as a buffer. But that didn't mean Kenma wouldn't suffer from the toxin, not even mentioning the aftermath of the poisons effect on the body. Then, there was still the wound from the shot and the possibility, that the hunters were still chasing them, Akaashi and the rest. What if they wouldn't be able to meet the rest of their squad, when they made it through this underground labyrinth, meaning, there was no instant medical treatment for Kozume?

Kuroo bit his lip until he tasted blood.

They were already running out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, shit goes down + comedic relief from meme queen Mattsun and Makki, also: Iwaoi being Iwaoi.  
> I aplogize in advance to all Kyohaba stans!  
> Also, I was really pumped to finally include rat boi and his twin brother as well as Queen B Sakusa. If you have some theories or future predigments, let me know in the comments!  
> Thanks for reading, see you next chapter!


	4. Pneuma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> That chapter took me a while to make, since I'm caught up with life recently, haha. Might be, that the chapters will get a bit shorter soon. They won't lack in quality, but if the story's flow isn't disturbed, I can split the chapters in half.  
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

It is said, that the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over again, with the intention of getting another result. Frankly, Kuroo thought he was on the verge of losing it – he did have a manageable temper, but never has he ever walked in half darkness for more than two hours, with the only sound being their footsteps and the hollow drum of the mountains heart.

He wouldn't let his cool slip, he had to keep it together and usually, he was very good at that. But he at least hoped for a twist, a turn, maybe a fork in the road? Another door, an underground base, anything that would confirm, they were indeed _not_ walking in circles.

Kenma was still taking the lead, even with his body noticably hurting, the hand resting reassuring on his wound, he had carried on in a steady pace.

The metallic smell of his blood sticking on him mixed weirdly with the natural, sweet scent Kenma had. The more Tetsurou looked at him, the heavier his chest felt. He didn't really understand it himself, it most likely could be nothing more than some sort of pity. It always hit those least likely to actually fight back, right?

“Stop starring holes inside my head, it's irritating”, said Kenma suddenly and Kuroo widened his eyes in surprise.

Jeez, this guy really had good senses.

He turned his attention on the way ahead of them and wondered where their location was in that exact moment. Not, that he knew this area to begin with, but maybe some sort of orientation would ease his distressed mind. There was still those inhuman hunters of Washijous army and the fear of the others and they themselves still being chased by them.

A bit startled, Kuroo stopped, as he almost walked into Kenma – the small cat was holding still in his motion and for a moment Kuroo thought he might have noticed something, until the heavy breathing caught his attention.

“Hey, are you fine? Should we rest for a moment?” The tall cat tried to get a glimpse of his face, but Kenmas long, black and blonde hair covered it, as he tried to regain the control of his body.

His legs slowly grew numb, even his arms were kind of heavy. The worst part was his shot wound though – it hurt immensely, even though it didn't cause him life threatening danger, the bullet was still inside him; ripping apart the flesh, the hot silver polluting his body. Kenma bit his lips and suppressed a groan, when he turned around to face Kuroo. With his sweaty forehead and the slightly, reddish cheeks, his face screamed exhaustion.

“Let's move forward, I just need better lightning to treat my wounds”, he breathed and when Kuroos hand moved forward to support him, Kenmas body flinched, side stepping his touch.

Tetsurou knew Kenmas opinion about him, still, in a situation like this, the harsh reaction left a sour taste in his mouth, that might have had a touch of sadness with it.

Underneath the orange plastic lights shining from above, Kenma finally allowed himself to sit down. His back pressed towards the walls of stone, he almost collapsed to the floor, the pain yet drumming again in his shoulder when he hit the ground too hard.

He exhaled.

“Do you need a tighter bandage?”, Kuroo asked, his hazel eyes fixed on the young man at his feet. Kenma shook his head and grabbed the fanny pack that still hung around his torso. He opened it and pulled out a small syringe: shielded with a hard plastic cap around the needle, he took it off with his teeth and inspected the thin, silver needle, bringing it very close to his face – a sight that made Kuroos left eye sting, but he swallowed his unnerved reaction.

Kenma noted, that nothing of the syringe seemed to be damaged, so it was good to go.

“What are you trying to inject yourself? Is it for the bullets poison?”

Kenmas golden orbs seemed muddy and unfocused in the dim lightning. His normal, sharp gaze was hazy and Kuroo wanted to ask, if he could help him, but Kozume took the wind out of his sails. He answered his question with a groggy tone of voice: “I wish.. No, it's a pain killer, some sort of liquefied analgesic, it should help me get rid off the pain in my shoulder for the next couple of hours.” Slowly, Kenma pulled up his hoodies long sleeves, and his face flinched whenever the fabric grazed his skin.

“Can you do it on your own?”, Kuroo asked cautiously and was instantly shut down with a very biting look from the small cat. Kuroo didn't want to push his luck and Kenma clearly has showed his boundaries multiple times before, but didn't the situation call for letting go of any personal disagreements? Kenma could keep on disliking him, _after_ Kuroo helped him save his life.

Even though his body has just been shaking before, Kenmas hand laid precisely on the syringe and placed it cautiously over the vein in his arms crook. This time though, he could not hold back a painful whimper, but pushed himself to finish it quickly. He even put the plastic cap back on the needle and brought the syringe back where it came from. With his head leaning against the cool stone wall, he felt the sweat running down his temples, his limps though felt ticklish and cold.

“How long will this reduce your pain?”

“A few hours. 4. Maybe 5 if I'm lucky.”

But Kozume knew, he wasn't the lucky type.

“You need a moment?” The obvious and honest concern in Kuroos voice made Kenmas heart sting, but he just clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the feeling and nodded. The rooster head squatted down and watched the small cats face attentively. The eyes underneath his closed lids moved erratically and his lips were tightly pressed together. The way his torso evenly rose and fell seemed to be a good sign, even though he was in pain. Sneering at Kuroo now, Kozume had opened his eyes and glared at the shaggy cat with annoyance.

God, how much he wished for his dumb face to not be in his sight now.

“Why do you keep starring at me?”, he asked, his voice cracking, empathizing his exhaustion.

“Because I'm worried”, Tetsurou replied without even thinking twice. The way his eyes captured his, let old memories relive in Kenmas mind.

He had seen this look many times before on him and in a way, it was absurd that even though this wasn't the Kuroo from back then, he _still_ was Kuroo.

He was always so honest when he cared, and never has he ever been embarrassed to admit and stay true to his feelings and thoughts – unlike Kenma. It has been Kuroo who had pushed him to grow comfortable with his own emotions and that showing vulnerability, was the most overlooked form of strength one could have. As much as he had _tsked_ at his words back then, he always thought of them as precious, dissecting them in his brain over and over again. Kuroo was strong; he always had been. He was respected by others for his mature approach of life early on and the sensitivity and responsibility that were part of his character. He laughed openly, got angry when he felt it was right to be and retreated in his room to sulk and go through inner turmoil when it all became too much for him. In a way, Kenma had envied his authentic way of living.

“ _You just have to learn how to speak up from time to time. When someone's bothering you, be nice first, and if they still choose to ignore you, then you can rightfully tell them to fuck off!”_

And Kenma did. Especially since Kuroo had died, he had honored the advice and found himself becoming more and more content with the way he handled himself and his life.

“You don't have to worry”, Kenma simply replied. He turned his gaze away and tried forming his hands into a fist. It worked, that was a good sign. His legs though, still felt very tingly and numb, so he tried wiggling his toes.

No feeling, no movement whatsoever.

“Can you stand up?”

No. Kenma couldn't.

Shaking his head, he tried lifting his whole body weight up with his arms, but the wound in his shoulder shot a lightning of pain through his whole being and immediately, he fell back to the floor. “Hey, don't push yourself. I can carry you for the rest.” The small cats face turned into a sour expression, and almost mockingly he replied: “We still have a long way to go. Even you can't carry me for more than an hour.”

Kuroos grin spoke clearer, than any words could at that moment. “You truly underestimate me, _kitten_. It can't be helped, I'm not leaving you to rot in this mountains stomach.” If he wouldn't be so concerned with his health, he would have threw a remark back at him for being so goddamn cocky. But Kuroo already came closer to him and put one of his arms behind his back.

Out of instinct, Kenma startled at the sudden touch. Kuroo stopped and inspected the mans face: no sight of pain, just some mixture of disgust and annoyance.

Alright, good to go.

Laying his arms around the small body yet again, Kenma turned his face away and Kuroo rose a brow, and even though he was used to this treatment, his worried mind let him slip those words with a unwanted, snarky tone. “Listen, I know you don't like me and my face looks unpleasant because of that ugly scar, but if you don't want to become the rats next lunch then I'll suggest you better hop on my back and let me carry you out of here.”

Kenma bit his tongue. He really wished, he was able to control his feelings a bit better, usually, it was no problem rationalizing them and sorting them out in two big piles: efficient and unproductive. But with Kuroo, his inner being winced and kicked, he felt like screaming and at the same time wanted to just put the whole world on _mute_.

Surrendering, he placed his arms around Kuroos neck, as he had already turned his back to Kenma, waiting for the small cat to hold onto him.

“Ready?”, Kuroo asked and Kenma replied with a quick and simple _yes_. With his strong arms underneath the back of his knees, Kuroo slowly got on his feet. His body pressed tightly around the shaggy cats back, Kenma felt his stomach turn. Despite the strength his system needed to keep him conscious, his body clearly was strong enough to make him feel flustered. Flustered, because whenever he breathed, he would inhale Kuroos scent. There was an earthy, deep aroma laying on his skin and it smelled so familiar, so beautifully soothing, but it wasn't right to feel this way now. Also, he had unintentionally gave Kuroo the impression, that he was hard to look at. That his appearance was unpleasant.

It was far from the truth, and Kenma really thought that over the years, Kuroo has only grown more into his beauty, even though he had strongly believed it wasn't possible for him to even become more handsome. Even with his scar he was alluring and kept his charm (albeit the scar even added to his intriguing aura), but the wound itself wasn't ugly – it was plainly the memory it triggered, that was so unpleasant to revisit.

Kuroo has always been confident in the healthiest way. He doubted himself just enough to keep polishing his skills and outlook on life in general. Sometimes he simply didn't care. But surely, a lot of people gave him a weird stare for his face, and no matter how self assured he was, it must have left at least the impression, that people judged him for it.

It hurt Kenma, because it wasn't right, as well as far from the truth.

“It's not ugly.”

The words broke the sound of Kuroos feet on the ground.

Keeping on walking, he couldn't quiet catch the words of the company on his back and replied with a _huh?_

“I meant your scar. It's not ugly.”

Kuroo fell quiet again.

He didn't say a thing. He believed Kenmas words and kind of wanted to thank him, but feared, it would make things even more awkward between the two.

But he was happy. Usually, he rarely cared for what strangers thought of him, but being liked by the small cat – this _kitten_ – gave him a strange feeling of joy. Swallowing his emotions for now, he followed the path that laid ahead of them and silence took over again, wandering through the mountains heart.

“Ah, Yasufumi, I didn't expect you to come back from your break that early. I suppose you miss work as much as I do.”

Two men sat on a giant table – each on one end.

The man at the front had his creased, soft hands folded in his lap, leaning back in the comfortable leather chair, his eyes were closed.

On the other end of the table, Lord Washijou enjoyed his dinner: lamb lollipops, with roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes refined with nutmeg, adorned with a sweet, cranberry sauce.

Not even looking up from his food, he waited for his old friends response.

“I see you are healthy and beaming with life force. That's good to see, Tanji.”

Tanji just snorted in between his bites.

“You know as well as all the others, that I am old and my body grows weaker every day. I am not looking strong.”

The old Yasufumi Nekomata only smiled. His ever so endearing, sly smile.

“Ah, but judging by the way you inhale your food, your body must scream for it. So it's good, it still pushes you to survive.”

Washijou didn't even bother with his snarky remark, he just kept on swallowing his food and in a hurry Nekomata couldn't explain, he freed the corners of his mouth from any sauce, before pushing his dinner plate away. He took a deep, deep sip from his red wine to wash his meal down.

Yasufumi let out a chuckle as a reply to the sight in front of him. “Wasting no time as always, eh? You are always so eager. I heard you are close to winning Miyagi over, or am I mistaken?”

“You are unmistakably right with that. Ukai wants to hold out as long as possible and every day they greet us with a new little surprise. Just yesterday they found one of our research labs and bombed it into bits and pieces. They block or railways and invade the air with their shifty little drones, _but_ ”, and on the last note he rose his head, his nose turned upwards now, “we are the _stronger_ force. We always were and will forever be. The old Ikkei died trying to make this ridiculous coup happen and his grandson Keishin will follow the same path. History will repeat itself eventually.”

The harsh words of Washijou made Nekomata fume from the inside, but over his years, the old man had learned that an invincible, confident smile has always been the best response _and_ the best weapon.

“You are so sure about that. Who will take over your position though? Did you already made up your mind over who will take over your reign?”

Washijous eyes beamed with some sort of twisted excitement and a stiff smile lied on his lips, as he nodded in response. “Ah, yes. My death. No day passes without wasting a thought on it. I do have someone I want to cede my position to. You already know it's going to be no other than Ushijima.”

Indeed, Yasufumi has already known. Over the time he has been one of Washijous best students and could even be considered his right hand.

“But I'm not going to leave so soon, my dear, old friend.” The old cats smile only intensified. Tanji was a man that followed a simple and short credo: the strongest will survive. But that didn't mean that he wasn't up for some surprises once in a while. Death turned even the sanest people into piles of paranoia; people changed their life shortly before their end, gathered their family together, found to god or retreated back to escape the horror that might await them around every corner. And Yasufumi knew, that Washijou was no man that would make his own peace and just live on an island, waiting till father death will come and pick him up. Oh no, Washijou always needed to prove that among all, _he_ was the strongest.

“What do you mean, you're not going to leave so soon? If you found an elixir that grands you immortality then please, be so kind to let me know.”

Washijou fell oddly quiet and the cat on front of him absolutely did _not_ like that. His inner sense were alerted now and he prepared himself for what was to come.

“I might have found my personal, fountain of youth.”

Yasufumi cracked a smile and nodded, his hands getting sweaty as he tried to relax them in his lap. “Oh come on, you were never the type to make fun, Tanji.”

“Indeed, I am not making fun, my friend.”

Silence took the room over and the knot inside the old Nekomatas stomach grew tighter with every second.

He knew Tanji Washijou knew no morals, when it came to his own survival and to making the world his.

“Is that so? Care to share with an old friend, or do you want to surprise us all when you hold your next public speech looking like the 20 year old Tanji?” The old Washijou, a weird caricature of what he once was, simply stood up and approached the door, leaving Nekomata behind at the large dining table. With his hand folded at his back, he turned to the cat and spoke: “If you are ready to see the future, then come with me next week to our laboratories, here in the capitol city. But be warned, you sly cat-” The brutality that shimmered in Washijou jet black orbs almost forced a flinch out of Yasufumi, but he met his gaze, unafraid as ever.

“If you were to tell a little _crow_ , you will lose all your nine lives and reunite with the old Ukai sooner than you wished for.”

And with those words, Tanji Washijou left.

Kenma and Kuroo have been walking for almost two hours now and not even once did Kuroo take a break or showed any physical signs of exhaustion.

His head laying gently against his neck, he closed his eyes, the warmth of the tall cats body gifted him with comfort, while his own strength withered with every passing minute. Kuroo oozed with life and strangely enough, Kenma felt, as if he would feed off of his energy. The growing cold in his limbs, which continuously increased by the freezing temperature in the mountains halls, could only be fight by leaning in closer to the heater that Kuroo was. Of course, he denied himself such actions. He wasn't big on physical intimacy or affection in general, but he couldn't deny that he must have become quiet touch starved lately. And Kenma didn't want to be touched by just anyone, he knew if it wasn't exactly the person he craved for, the feeling would only grew bigger and bigger over time.

Now, finally being close to Kuroo again, he felt helpless, not knowing how to categorize his emotions.

As the monotone world around him bobbed up and down, up and down with every single movement, every long step Kuroo took, the man on his back found himself oddly alone with his thoughts.

Not only alone, but even very devious: his mind was full of memories and past impressions of Tetsurou, feelings and moments they shared, a bond they created, they kept rising up from his subconscious and he played them like a movie. And none of that was known by Kuroo – he would never find out about his past.

It was unfair.

The feeling of injustice gave Kenma the bad conscious he had all the time, but everyone knew it was better not to tell him..for now at least.

 _You've never kept a secret from me. And I never did from you. We may have seemed like opposites at first glance, but we always were the same deep down_ , Kenma directed his silent words towards the man who carried him.

As they were children, they were living in the same shelter next to an old, abandoned hospital. They have been told by their foster mother when they were taken to the orphanage, that it simply lacked money, education and therefore skill and labor to have kept it running. It had been empty for almost twenty years at that point.

Neither of them knew their parents. Neither of them had any living relatives (as far they were told by the government of course), they only had themselves, the other kids on the streets and those that were merciful enough to gave them food, clean water, clothes and some sort of free education.

“ _Let's sign up for Shiratorizawa. The military is the only way to escape this rat hole._ ” Both of them had watched the sun set above the cities head, the giants out of glass and concrete being granted to be touched by the flaming orange orb first, before anyone else on earth was allowed to. In that moment, Kuroo had partly longingly, partly sobering looked over to the first sector of the Capitol, the giant wall that parted the sectors frequently reminding them, that they were lowlife.

From their favorite spot (an old, unused watchtower) high above the ground, they felt lifted, almost weightless, even if it was only for a little bit.

Kenma knew, Kuroo only wanted to soar high and be free.

An equal.

Recognized and respected for all he was and that granted him the outmost dignity: being human.

“ _We can go to other military schools as well. Does it have to be Shiratorizawa?_ ”, Kenma asked, his golden eyes perfectly imitating the sun on the horizon.

Kuroo only smiled – it was bittersweet, full of hope and yet, still realized all the obstacles they were chained to.

“ _Absolutely. It's the best school around. It's the school Lord Washijou went to. We have to_.”

Kenma knew why. He knew why they had to go. There was no real opportunities here, only existing till the end. None of them wanted to solely exist.

They finally wanted to live.

“ _If we pass the entry exams, we are good to go_.”

“ _Our education here isn't the best though, you know that. Even if we are considered geniuses for our heritage, we are still in a clear disadvantage_ ”, Kenma replied, stating the obvious.

Kuroos smile grew more and more confident, till it turned into his signature grin.

“ _You are goddman right there. And that's why we have to work extra hard. You hear me? No skipping training anymore and we're gonna go to the public library to study extra after class, takes some time to get to the city's center, but even that will polish your stamina. Hey, Kenma, are you even listening?_ ”

Kenma could remember Kuroos reaction very clearly, even to this day. The way his eyes widened, his mouth opened partly and his shoulders all lose, as his best friend replied: “ _Yeah. Let's do that._ ”

There was nothing else than going forward, ever.

And both of them showed throughout their whole life, that if there was something they've been good at, then it would be to always be on the go.

The one who lost his focus and didn't keep up with fates cruel twists and turns would eventually lose the game.

Kenma remembered his friends in school, the ones, that would become his comrades one day, the confused looks of the ones who deemed him unworthy because of his mellow and quiet nature and the words of his teachers, who saw something great in him.

“ _You, Kozume, you are a valuable company. Trust me when I say, that even though you lack the drill, you are outstanding when it comes to strategy. Your mind is a machine, eh?_ ”

The old Nekomata had reached out for him after class, and as they have walked around the academy's property, Kenma guessed what his teachers intentions must be.

“ _You're observational skills and analytical forecasts make you perfect on the structural level of a fight. You also bring in the right amount of objectiveness to every diplomatic discussion. Your friend Kuroo is an exceptional leader. He possess many qualities, that let him stand out in every aspect. You two are from the third sector, am I correct?_ ”

The sudden question let Kenmas awareness rise. He knew that people from the poor sectors got harassed and had a rougher time getting their so craved and deserved prestige. They had experienced it first hand.

“ _That's correct. Why are you asking, Sir?_ ”

Nekomata only laughed – his too goofy, careless laugh – and the small cat beside him tried his best not to let his annoyed expression slip.

“ _I think it's just impressive, that so many Third Sectors have passed our entry exam this year. This is a great new opportunity for all of you and you deserve it._ ”

That remark made even Kenma blink.

He remembered the especially sunny day and baby blue sky and Nekomatas question, the first sign of what was about to happen the following years.

“ _Say, Kenma, aren't you a little bit too clever for war?_ ”

“ _Excuse me, Sir?_ ”

“ _I said, haven't you already made up your mind about it? Someone as logical as you, must know, that it's a pointless act of destruction carried out by greedy human beings?_ ”

Silence fell between the teacher and his student and completely speechless, not knowing what to say or what to do, he just knitted his sweaty hands and scanned the area for any people.

Was that really a _serious_ question?

“ _You don't have to answer. I think I might already know._ ”

Kozumes golden orbs have avoided Nekomata so far, but once he felt pressured to face his teacher and turned his gaze towards him, the ever so gentle, happy smile on the old mans lips made the boy next to him grew a tight knot in his stomach.

Did he really know already? If so, wouldn't Kenma be expelled from the academy? He wished, he'd had just left class quicker, so he wouldn't be in that kind of situation to begin with.

“ _Don't look so scared, I'm not going to tell the authorities. In fact, I believe it's good to reflect on given circumstances and imagine a world that consists of our 'what ifs'. The goal is to develop and improve, not to stagnate. Or do you disagree?_ ”

Kenma struggled to sort out his thoughts. Nekomata was a teacher that seemed to stand out from all the other authority figures in Shiratorizawa. His calm, friendly, yet scheming nature as well as the fact, that even though he already should have retired, he continued to honorarily work at the academy, made him a favorite among the apprentices.

“ _If you don't keep on moving forward you'll get left behind. That's just how the world goes._ ”

Nekomata chuckled, his hands clasped in front of his roundish belly. “ _Very well said. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the greatest empires did. Rome died, the Persian empire, the Mongol empire – all withers away under times pressure._ ”

Kenma kept on listening, trying to make sense out of his words. “ _It's only a matter of time. Change will come around eventually, in various, unexpected or not so unexpected ways._ ”

The old cat stopped and his eyes soaked in the beauty of the afternoons sun. Only a few, soft clouds dared to accompany it. That, and the few finches that joyfully chirped while performing their sweet little dances high up in the sky, celebrating the absence of winter.

Kenma froze right on the spot, as the old mans eyes opened and his smile faded away.

“ _How do you want change to look like?_ ”

The question had haunted him, plagued him, and the worst was, he felt like telling no one. It wasn't right to tell anyone about the conversation between him and his teacher. Even as Kuroo had asked him that day, Kenma mumbled a hasty excuse.

“ _He just tried to pursue me into an extended stay to the east coast, to spend some time at the national congress with our Generals. He said if I'd apply, I might make it with my grades_.”

“ _Absolutely! You're the biggest brain here, go formit_!”

“ _No_ ”, has been Kenmas reply. “ _I don't want to become a General, I'm fine with being part of the technical department. Administration is fine enough for me._ ” And that was the truth.

He and Kuroo had never kept a secret from another. White lies did happen occasionally, but nothing worse. Kenma had felt very bad that day and the months to come.

Little did he know, both of them had already been pulled deeply within Keishin Ukais plan to overcome Lord Washijous reign - the red strings already attached to their wrists, hands, fingers, ankles, limps, and the more they tried to run from it the deeper they'd fall right back into the deep, pitch black pit of the unknown. The strings had hurt. Up to this point, Kenma believed that their destiny had already been settled and the moment Kuroo had died, all of his strings had been cut and he floated aimlessly around, searching for a new pair of strings to connect to.

Of course, this wasn't an available option, so all Kozume could do was picking up the leftovers and knotting his former gossamer back together.

But now, with his best friend reappearing, again he felt the pulling and sharpness of the yarn around his body. He wondered, if it was the same feeling he had back then. Furthermore, he had thought it was because of their participation for the coup that had had to happen. But judging by the situation now, it might have its roots in his relationship with Kuroo.

He had never put a word on his feelings for him, in the past, he only slowly realized, that indeed, his adoration for his friend did not really compare with the descriptions and feelings between other friends – even if they were best friends for life. Naturally, he had explained it by their shared background. Their rough childhood had tied them close together, closer than most, so it was only naturally to want to be around each other most times. Even if the other was absent, all they wanted was to never miss the other – a fairly normal desire.

But finding out about Oikawas and Iwaizumis, as well as Akaashis and Bokutos relationships and growing feelings for the other (not that it was public, romantic relationships were strictly forbidden - it was all due to Kenmas observations), he had questioned his own intentions.

It was only when he had mourned Kuroos death for the past years, that he had wished he would have been more honest. He wasn't sure if he there would have been an opportunity to confront him and to sort things out – hell, he didn't even know if Kuroo had felt the same for him -, but being robbed even the chance to do so made him realize, that he felt deep regret.

All he ever wanted was to be and stay close to Tetsurou - mentally and physically.

Slowly, Kenmas mind came back to reality and with his face nuzzled in the tall, black cats neck, he felt his body becoming lighter and lighter, his arms dangling over Kuroos shoulders now and the unconscious slowly crept up on him.

Everything was so warm, even though his fingers were cold, even though his ears and his feet were cold, all inside of him grew vibrantly hot and he allowed himself to fix his fading conscious on the steady, strong heart beat that was Kuroos.

A satisfied sigh left Kozumes lips.

Immediately, the rooster head turned around, his intuition reporting an unnerving feeling inside of him.

“Hey, are you fine?”

Blinking his sleepiness away, Kenma lifted his head to face Kuroo, his hazy, golden orbs trying to keep the eye contact.

“I'm fine, I'm just..it's the pain killer..it makes me sleepy.”

His concern growing, Kuroo replied: “The pain killer, or the poison?” Kenma blinked a few times and it was hard to concentrate. Not even realizing, that his fingers grabbed the dense material of Tetsurous clothes and pressed his forehead against his neck.

“I-it's both”, he mumbled, trying to fight the dizziness.

Suddenly, Kuroo lowered his posture and carefully allowed Kenma to sit down on the ground. In a split moment, his face was very close to his, his large hand first cupping his red cheeks, before resting on his forehead. It was covered in cold sweat, some strings of hair attached to it.

“Shit, you're having a fever. That's because of your wound. Do you have any other medicine with you?”

Kenma slowly shook his head. “Only a tracker..when you're deep in the mountain the signal of the wrist watch is too weak for the others to make out our location..”

Kuroo pressed his lips together and with his expression hardened and serious, he searched for Kozumes eyes, looking directly in the melting suns, his iris were.

“How long do we still have to go?”

Kenma thought about it, the digits flying wildly around in his brain, too fast to even try to catch one.

“Not long..an hour..maybe two..two hours.”

Two hours were _awfully_ long for someone who fought a shot wound and poison in ones system. Kuroo had to push himself especially hard to reach their goal quick.

“Will you wake up?”

The words were mere echoes.

Far, far away, and the distance grew only wider with every passing second.

“Hey, focus, will you wake up?”

Grabbing his face now, he forced him to look at him.

When Kenmas glance crossed his friends hazel eyes, he suddenly felt pulled back hard to reality and the shier fear or losing another again, triggered something primal inside of Kenma; his soul screamed and took his whole being over, reaching its arms out to forever hold Kuroo in them.

He nodded as confidently as possible, and their eyes still locked to another, he added on: “I promise.”

Near a quiet, hidden lake that laid in between to slopes, frozen in time, and in the way the ice sparkled in the afternoons sun, it could have been a painting itself, Akaashi Keiji was leaning against the trunk of a bare spruce. It must have died a long time ago.

“Makki, Mattsun, Yahaba, are you alright?”

After a few seconds, Makki reported to word.

“All fine. We were able to get your car. Is it save to pick you up?”

Cautiously, the green eyed owl scanned its environment. It has been silent for a while now. Their enemies probably have lost their track in the snowy, uneven terrain. Even though, they seemed very precise in their moves. _Too_ precise, _too_ knowing, to simply lose track that easily.

The sound of a branch breaking in two caught Keijis attention and he pressed harder against the tree. He listened to the cold white around him.

Somewhere in the sky, a crow cawed, infuriated, another joined in, and the softness of the forest around him was disrupted by more branches falling to the ground and leaves rustling in the wind. It was probably just the wildlife causing the noise, yet, he felt watched. Alone, with his friends nowhere in sight, fearing that part of them might be in danger already made him uneasy, his mind seemingly rushing from one conclusion to another. So he forced himself to focus on his breathing.

Even breaks between exhaling and inhaling always did the trick for him.

“Akaashi, what's wrong? You're in trouble?”

In the distance he watched a deer breaking through the thicket and on long, dainty legs it tramped through the snow. Ears raised in awareness, with its dark, coal eyes, it starred to the man on the other side of the small lake, but after feeling no harm coming from him, it plainly continued its search for food.

Almost sighing in relief, he brought his wristwatch close to him to reply, before he fell on his back, shocked by the sheer blackness that covered his vision now.

Breathing heavily, he thought he might have been captured, struck from behind, the hunters had chased him down, but he moved his legs, he threw his arms in the air, trying to grasp for anything to hold onto, before a clear sequence of pictures played in front of his inner eye.

The image of the battlefield of their first, failed coup popped up and the smell of blood, fire, the overheated guns, the sound of screaming and explosions were thrown at him. There was the picture of Kuroos dead body, his gauged out eye, his torso, ripped open, blood everywhere, his blue fingers and Kenmas body next to him and for a second, he had thought Kozume has died with him.

The scenery changed and he heard the laughing of Sugawara Koushi, it mixed with the stern expression of his partner Daichi Sawamura and Ukais hard words to keep on pushing till their borders can't hold out any longer echoed in his mind. There was warmth, there was uneasiness, his heart pounded wildly in his chest and he saw the moon: full, round, milky white.

And in a blink of an eye, it turned blood red.

From behind he heard Oikawa scream from the top of his lungs and the shrieking sound made his blood freeze.

Suddenly, Keiji was all alone in a room out of seemingly nothing. There was just he and the walls surrounding him. Ever so slowly, shadow figures emerged from the corners: they simply walked out of them and the darkness that they were let Akaashis neck hair stand up. Their silhouettes were constantly changing, disfigured and awfully fast moving like the image of static on a TV screen. They were creatures no one he knew, unable to be named, to be ordered in time, nor in space. They simply existed.

Akaashi ran. As fast as he could, he ran into the nothingness, not knowing if he would fall, be caught, or if something worse was about to happen. He stopped in front of a thick glass window, that then appeared in front of him.

Still In shock, his survival instinct dared him to get closer to it, still afraid of what followed him from behind. All he saw was darkness behind the glass, but he felt that there was _someone_.

Someone starred at him, watched him, examined him and he made out the faint sound of shuffling on a tile floor.

Another presence joined in, and now he heard the muffled sound of a man and a woman talking. Their voices were pretty monotone, none of them let their tone reveal any sort of emotion.

Looking behind his shoulder, he saw the black figures coming closer.

“ _Hey!_ ”, he called out for them, but they just ignored him.

Now banging with his fists on the window wall, frustration written on his face, he called out again, forceful and scared. “ _Hey! Let me out of here! What is this place?_ ”

Silence.

“ _He seems to notice us_.”

“ _He's been sleeping for a while now._ ”

“ _His stats are good though, he will be of good use for him_.”

Who was _him_?

Suddenly remembering, that he carried a gun, Akaashi didn't wasted any time; he grabbed it from his belt, pointed it in front if him and pulled the trigger.

Millions of sharp, glistening pieces flew through the room, a sudden, too bright ray of light shined exactly at him and it made him flinch, shutting his eyes quickly.

The shadow figures behind him screeched as they faced their death, immediately turning to dust – in front of him, a too familiar laugh reached his ear and with his heart throbbing painfully in his chest, he recognized it as Bokutos voice.

“ _Akaashi, come! If you want to get outta here, you have to hurry!_ ”

Still not able to fully open his eyes, he walked blindly, carefully, yet desperate to reunite with his lover. Moving one feet in front of the other, his hand reaching out in for his lover.

“ _Too slow, Akaashi! Come, let me help you!_ ”

A hand grabbed his, a hand so long and slender, so cold and covered in cuts and scars, the skin dried out from the harsh winter, he instantly knew, it was _not_ his love.

The warmth of the sun he had just disappeared and he was forced to look at someone without a face. As if he was covered in a blanket of shadows, only his limps and wild, fiery red hair showing, he leaned in closer to Akaashi, his extremely tall, lean figure hunching over.

Unable to move, Akaashi stood there as the unknown mans lips came uncomfortably close to his ear, and he asked in a mockingly, sweet voice: “ _Who were you expecting?_ ”

The words just leaving is lips, Akaashi was pushed and then he fell.

A deep, deep fall, that numbed his ears and brought tears to his eyes, a fall, that made the air leave his lungs, before he dropped on a snowy ground.

Yet again it was blood, smoke, screaming, gun shots and the sound of the wind that filled his senses. For a moment, he thought he had shattered – his body ripped apart, his head exploded and his brains spilled everywhere.

Big flakes of snow covered his face and he indeed found himself feeling the light touch. He lifted his body up and took a look around: a battlefield.

For a moment, he thought he was back to the beginning and his eyes searched for his two friends. One dead, one alive.

But this was different.

They were in the Capitol, behind him the walls that segregated the poor from the rich sectors and it was partly broke down. The watchtowers on high alert, he just now noticed the sound of the alarm echoing through the empty streets.

The city was a wasteland.

Black and blue hands, bloody heads, and weirdly disfigured torsos peeked through the fresh, new layer of snow and the the ruins of the city spoke silently their goodbyes to each and everyone who had passed away.

Keiji stepped through the snow, his breathing heavy as he couldn't make out one living person, hell, even one living creature. There were no birds on the deep, gray sky, smoke covering it partly, and no rat even dared to crawl out of its hiding spot to nibble at the cadavers.

Again, the green, deep eyes of the owl searched the scene for a clue.

Where was he?

Then, in the corner of his eyes, something moved. Quickly turning around, he saw a body laying openly on the ground: tall and muscular, black, shaggy hair and a face like that of a cat.

“Kuroo..?”, Akaashi mumbled, his hot breath visible due to the freezing temperatures and he run over to his friend.

Indeed. It was him.

“Kuroo!”, he called out his name and in an instance he knelled down beside him, his hand grabbing his shoulder.

“Kuroo, are you alright?”

As the desperation took over his body, another, little voice inside of him, whispered an unnerving thought into his ear. His stomach turning, he forced himself to ease his tense nerves and scrutinize Tetsurous face.

He had no visible wound on his body, his clothes were ripped apart here and there, but else, he seemed to be fine. His eyes now scanning his face, they stopped at the scar running through his left eye and as Akaashi unmistakably recognized the twisted parallels of the current situation to the one in the past, he noticed another thing: the snow on Kuroos skin _melted_.

Kuroo was alive.

And in that exact moment, as the realization hit Akaashi with the small voice from before now very loud and clear telling him to _run_ , the hazel eyes shot wide open and a white, hot pain formed in his abdomen and quickly ran through his whole being.

The knife was pushed down to its shaft deeply inside him and only a small, so very painful whimper left Akaashis lips, his eyes twisting and turning with anger, betrayal, sadness and confusion.

He fell on his side, his hand on the wound. Kuroo stood up and brutally pulled down the weapon out of Keijis stomach, the sudden action ripping even more of his flesh and organs apart, and his body twisted in pain.

The once so lively, beaming eyes that were Kuroos were dull and lifeless.

He may looked like Kuroo, he may smelled like him and had his voice, he acted like the Kuroo they knew and he had carried the same, sly grin that was so unreadable.

But deep inside of him, his inner core was pitch black and smelled of death.

He was not Kuroo.

He had never been.

As Akaashis vision faded, blurry and wet around the edges, not even noticing how a tear left his eyes, rolling down his cheek all alone, Kuroo picked up another body from the floor.

No one has been with them before, Keiji was sure of that, but out of all things to happen now, it was Kenma, that the tall man with the jet black hair swung over his shoulder, the once pulsating, golden eyes wiped out from all that filled them with life.

His limbs evenly rocked from the left to the right as Kuroo walked away with his dead best friends body in his hands.

Akaashi wanted to reach out, he wanted to stand up and catch up with him, he wanted to scream and demand an answer – _why would you ever kill the ones you love_?

And the most important question:

 _Who are you, Kuroo_?

But all turned black again and even though Akaashi wasn't dead, his senses were numbed, his body stiff as a board.

Once again he opened his eyes and was back at the lake.

His body shivering, the eyes wet from crying he sat up and forced himself to feel the cold snow on his skin, until his hands stung and begged for him to pull back.

He did then.

“Akaashi? Akaashi, please answer we have your location, stay where you are, we'll come a pick you up regardless!”, Mattsun exclaimed, his usual, unbothered tone now slightly erratic.

Wiping the tears away from his cold cheeks, he took three, deep, deep breaths and swallowed _whatever that was_ he just experienced.

“I'm fine, I'm fine. My connection got cut off. Yes, I will wait for you , see you in a bit.”

In his anxious state, his body still under adrenaline, not fully able to identify this fever dream that had rolled over him, abused and corrupted him, he did something he hadn't done in a long, long time. Out of instinct he subconsciously called out for Bokuto.

They didn't know how one did it, at best, it could be another form of mind reading, an ability some divine lovers had. Like a transmitted signal, it was merely a touch from the soul, a reminder for the other to think about you, and always it felt like something brushed and caressed your aura.

They have done it accidentally in the past – Bokuto believing first it must have been a ghost of some goddamn dead student that was still hunting the academy's property.

But after the incidents happened on a frequent basis, and the feeling seemed rather warm and loving then cold and eerie for both of them, they realized it must be another side effect of their soul connection.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa did it too, especially, when getting separated on the battle ground, it was a reassuring sign of the other still being alive.

Akaashi still didn't have full control over it, unlike the other couple, it was all too often happening out instinct, than willingness and after he and Bokuto parted he had conditioned himself to never do it again – even if it was a mere accident.

But now he did not care. He felt the tingling sensation on his skin and hoped, wherever Bokuto was, that he would feel it.

Whatever gave him this twisted vision of a nightmare – if it was god or just another floating being among the stars – he felt utterly lonely now.

All he wanted was to be with him. Nothing felt ever as bad for so long, when he was with him.

But alone he crouched in the cold, hugging himself to get rid of the despair that arose inside of him. And his yearning call for his lover was left unanswered.

Kenma had slept for a while now. His breathing was steady and except a few grunts that left his throat when Kuroo readjusted the weight on his back, he was silent.

His fingers had gripped the fabric of his top the whole time, only now they finally lost their strength and relaxed.

Before he gave in to his body's exhaustion, Kuroo had tried to keep Kenma awake by holding a conversation with him. He had asked him about his friends, how long he knew them and what they wanted to do after the revolution.

Unfortunately, Kenma was short on giving detailed answers.

“ _Kuroo..what did they..mean..you are a runaway?_ ”

Kuroo chewed on the words.

They had _recognized_ him.

But he didn't know who _they_ were. He had known no one, all his life from the point on he had awakened, soaking wet and full of mud, covered in bruises and nothing but the red backpack. And all he got from that, was his name, a knife and pistol, a small water bottle (half empty, of course) and a little key chain of a small soldier boy. Being molded out of rubber, it was in a pretty solid condition, here and there it had been scratched on the smooth surface, but else the child was still smiling brightly, saluting to Kuroo, a small rifle in his left hand.

It was the governments radical way of propaganda and brain washing children to believe that war was necessary, to be a soldier was honorable and fun.

Something that really got him thinking though, was the text written on the black surface of the key chain. Even though the writing had been taken a few hits over the years, it was still fully readable, with a red marker someone had written _For Kuroo_ on it.

Kuroo bit his tongue.

He wished he knew where he came from. He wished he knew what kind of man he once was, how he lived, what kind of work he did, how he loved, what his aspirations where. Has he been content? Did he lose his memories by accident or had it been intentional?

Floating in the black, deep puddle of _what ifs_ and _maybes,_ he shook his thoughts of and continued to march on.

There was nothing around him, only the hollow, dull sound of the mountain, the occasional drops of water and the even breathing of Kenma on his back. Strangely enough, having him close felt like an extended version of his body. Kuroo thought of it as a second heart, bringing warmth and comfort to himself. The way Kenmas soft breathing brushed his neck made him nervous and yet, it felt very natural, almost as if he'd already been used to it.

He caught himself mid-thinking, scolding himself strictly, that he should ban these sort of thoughts from his mind. If Kozume knew, he'd probably rip him apart – verbally of course. Or, his friends would do. The faces of Iwaizumi, Oikawa and Akaashi in mind, the green eyed owl stayed in front of his inner eye a second too long, and Kuroo yet again thought about the relationship Kenma and he shared. All of them seemed to be close, but Tetsurou was more than just convinced, that there was something else between them, that brought this extreme fondness and softness to Akaashis eyes, whenever he looked at Kenma. The kitten himself had already lost his cool, composed expression, when it was about Akaashi, before. When they were in the dining hall of the barracks, or the moment, when they got separated and fleet into the forest.

Even though it might have looked like it, Kuroo didn't consider it to be love. For love, Akaashi had too sad eyes for his taste. It looked more like _guilt_.

Always, when his eyes wandered to Kenma, he gave of the impression of a man, that owed him. He had to make up for something, but what exactly? That would remain a secret; a secret that Kuroo might dare to find out in the future, but for now he didn't care and shouldn't care. Also, whenever his mind wandered to the tiny possibility that they indeed had a romantic relationship, it left a sour taste in his mouth, almost, as if it wasn't right.

 _That_ for a fact made him concerned because if it wasn't someone he was fond of in some sort of way, he usually did not give any second thought to anyone. He simply didn't care enough.

With Kozume still deeply asleep on his back, Kuroo finally stood in front of another, thick metal door.

His inner dog barked in excitement: finally, they had made it.

He remembered Kenmas words from before and tried reaching Akaashi and the others with his wristwatch.

“Akaashi? Oikawa, Iwaizumi? Anyone there?”

The minutes he had waited before they answered, felt like hours in this seemingly never ending darkness.

“Kuroo? Are you alright?”, Oikawa responded and his voice seemed ever so soft.

“Yes, we are almost there. Just have to pass the exit and then we're back on the surface.”

“That's good. How is Kozume-kun?”

“Asleep. But alive. He has been sleeping for the last couple hours though, but his breathing is normal, even though he seems to have a fever.”

Tooru replied: “Understood. We have your signal, we can track you down. Stay put and be just a bit more patient. We'll get you home soon.”

With that, the signal broke off and Kuroo found himself quiet dumbfounded by the last remark.

_Home?_

They themselves didn't even call it home, hell, it was as blank and cold as a block of ice. Why would they think he would call it his home? He didn't know what a home was to be exact..did he?

Since he arrived, he couldn't abandon the warm, cozy sensation in his chest when he thought about the miracle, that his rescue from Iwaizumi and Oikawa was.

Maybe fate did not only allow Testurou to live longer, but maybe it had a deeper meaning to it? As much as he hated this spiritual talk sometimes, they lived on a planet were extraordinary lovers, gifted from the gods existed. He also lived on a world, were a dictator crushed his own kind underneath his feet as he pleased.

Maybe he was meant to stay?

Passing through the opening door, he approached a long ladder.

With Kenma on his back – and he had to hold and reassure his body tightly for him to not fall off – he wouldn't make it. Using one arm was simply too risky.

“Hey, wake up”, the black cat spoke and moved a bit more erratically. Kozume stayed quiet.

“Hey, you, wake up, we're almost there, you hear me? Almost back, I just spoke to Oikawa, so come on, open your eyes!”

Again: silence.

Concerned, he carefully dropped to his knees and let Kenma slip from his back, the small mans body leaning against the wall, so he would still sit upright. In a second, Kurros hands were on his shoulders in order to prevent his torso and head from falling over.

Kenma breathed heavily now, his face twitching, before soft gold collided with warm golden-brown. Realizing it was not a dream, Kenma said his name weakly and not even noticing it, his chest subtly rose out of happiness.

“Kuroo?”

The rooster head tilted his head and greeted him with a crooked grin, relieved to see him awake now. “I need to you to gather your last strength, okay? Hold on to me tightly, we just need to climb up the ladder and we're out of here.”

The face of his friend seemed unmoved, but Kuroo felt his distress. He was weak and he couldn't even move his legs, his fingers or toes, but he needed to fight against the pain, against the hauntingly eerie sensation of his body growing numb and stiff.

Kuroo looked his eyes with him and held his face now in his hands. He just needed to reach out for him, if there was one thing that could trigger and manipulate the physical condition and limits of the human body with a almost 100% guarantee, it were emotions.

“Let's go home. You hear me? We're almost home, Kenma.”

And right then and there, Kenmas golden orbs widened slowly, Kuroo thought they were teary and it must have been the pain, but then realized they were beaming with such an intense amount of hope, desire and determination, that it almost breathed life back into him.

Kuroos heart beat loud and wild in his chest, demanding to tame itself, he held his breath, trying to force calmness on it, but with every second that their gazes were fixed on each other, more and more euphoria poured out of it.

Kenma nodded then and a weak, yet brave smile adorned his lips.

Bringing him close now, the small cats arms captured his neck, hiding his face in the fabric of Kuroos top, he breathed silently and yet so loud: “Let's go home, Kuroo.”

In disbelief, his hands hovered above his shoulders, unsure if he should hug him or not.

He _wanted_ to – but the moment was uncalled for. Though, he was eager to pull him close and breath in that slick, honey sweet scent that filled his mind now.

But he couldn't, or better said: he shouldn't.

“Let's go home”, he answered and decided to put one of his large hands on the smaller frame and caress it gently.

As long as he felt save and encouraged all was fine.

One more time Kuroo allowed Kenma to climb on his back and hold on tightly.

They escaped the mountains claws, leaving it behind as hungry, dark and empty as it has been before.

As they found them, Kenma was pale, his body soaked in sweat and his breathing weak. Oikawa treated him right on the spot, but would need to operate him when they were back at their station. There was still a bullet inside his shoulder and poison to extract.

Akaashi had been surprised, almost shocked, to see Kenma clinging onto Kuroo so desperately. It shouldn't take him by such a big surprise: he had loved him ever since and even though Kuroo has been dead, his heart has never made room for anyone else, even though Kozume himself might have not realized it.

Now, he was sleeping in his room, his wounds treated properly, the poison successfully out of his system. They were lucky to have Oikawa on their team, he was a gifted medic.

Letting himself fall on their couch, Oikawa massaged his temples, trying to save himself from another attack of painful headaches. Recently his body has been giving in to stress easier and easier and if his intuition didn't deceive him, it was a _bad omen_.

“He needs to rest. Let him sleep, even if it's two days.”

Akaashi nodded and brought the cup of water to his lips, sipping on it, as he kept on listening.

“As for Kuroo, that guy seems to be as healthy as ever. Seriously, does he have some sort of superpower?” Furrowing his brows, Oikawa closed his eyes now and sighed heavily, trying to cover up the dread he always felt, when he saw his pitch black soul wandering around the house.

He felt extra needy for Iwaizumis closeness since he has arrived and even though he loved his friend and was truly thankful that he had the chance to see him again, something about him just felt so _off_.

There was nothing obvious off about him - except his invulnerable body maybe. But from the inside he was different. Oikawa had felt it ever since he tested him when he arrived and he did it almost frequently now, to see, if anything would change.

Of course, nothing had happened, he remained as pitch black as ever.

Oikawa had told Iwa-chan that night and he had been angry for Tooru lying to him yet again, when he could clearly _feel him_ all the time. But the very blunt and honest expression of fear that Iwaizumi Hajime most likely never ever showed to absolutely no one as a response to Oikawas confession, had made it even worse.

Tooru had known it the moment his eyes laid on Tetsurous dead soul : _a bad omen_.

The morning when they got the message from Yahaba that they were found by hunters made it even a complete nightmare.

The hole in the snow, they believed to be the home of a fox or a bear crossed his mind and he had felt it back there too: _another bad omen_.

“I'm glad you all came back alive”, he exclaimed, his hands moving from his temples to his neck now, to ease the tensed nerves there.

“When will we leave?”

“I'm not sure”, Akaashi answered, his eyes far, far away. “I'm still trying to get in contact with Sawamura or Sugawara, but none of them replied so far. Tsukishima is also caught up in their one to one fight with Washijou; only Haiba and Morisuke responded for now. Apparently, they are close to us, so maybe we can manage to catch up with them in a few days. We just need to hold back because of Kenmas condition. And we need to inform Ukai that our borders aren't safe anymore.”

“But I don't get it”, a rough voice interfered from behind and Iwaizumi emerged from the door, a glass of whiskey in his hand, he plumped down next to Oikawa and scratched his neck.

“What on earth could have made them pass them? Wouldn't you get alarmed at least?”

Oikawa glanced over to his lover and rose a brow. Poking his sides, he asked him: “Iwa-chan, what are you drinking for? You haven't been shot or escaped murderous soldiers, so what's with that?” The corners of Iwaizumis mouth turned downwards immediately and he flinched away, as Oikawa aimed for another attack with his long slender fingers.

“Just because. Why do you care? Stop being a nagging supervisor already.”

“I'm just asking because I care, Iwa-chan. There is an obvious difference between those two things!” Iwaizumi scoffed while taking a sip from his glass, nodding mockingly afterwards. “So you say. No, it's actually because I always get so nervous assisting during an operation when it's small people. Kozume is so fragile, he could die so easily.”

Oikawa seemed a bit dazzled by his boyfriends blunt and direct answer.

“What?”, Hajime barked as he noticed the chocolate brown eyes that watched him attentively. “Nothing, I just didn't expect you to be so honest with your feelings right away, though-”

Akaashi exhaled loudly and shot an oh so telling, very tired look over to his friends. He didn't say it, because he had done it many, many times before, but both Oikawa and Iwaizumu heard him loud and clearly in their minds saying _are you two done now?_

“Right, sorry Akaashi”, said Oikawa and Keiji answered Iwaizumis previous question.

“Our systems were down that night and day. We had to restart them in order to fix it. But, to be honest..” He remembered their fluid, quick moves, their strange, emotionless eyes and the way they had talked, looked, carried themselves and fell quiet for a second.

“They didn't seem like the average soldier.”

His statement was responded by two, concerned, yet curious pairs of eyes. Iwaizumi felt Oikawas dread creeping up on him. “What do you mean..not like the average soldier?”

With his hands covering his mouth, Akaashi fell back into his typical position that signaled his sharp mind working on the highest frequency. And with the way his eyes closed, the momentum of quiet he needed to gather his words, Oikawa felt his stomach turn.

 _Bad omen_.

“They were quick. Almost forecasting our next steps. They said there were interested in people like Kenma. I don't know what they meant, but maybe Kenma has something special inside of him that we don't see or feel.”

The atmosphere was tense now.

“But Kenma is no divine lover. He hasn't found his other half yet, if he has one to begin with”, Iwaizumi stated and with a _clack_ he put down his glass of liquor on the coffee table in front of him as he leaned in closer.

“Excuse me? Iwa-chan, not even you can be that dull!”Oikawas reply made his lover grit his teeth, but Akaashi interfered quickly, preventing any possible quarrels.

“Iwaizumi is not completely wrong though. In the past, they were best friends, as far as I know no one had ever expressed or stated any kind of romantic interest for the other though. And now, Kenma wants to avoid him. No matter the possibilities, reality is, they aren't romantically involved with another.”

Oikawa crossed his arms in disbelief and scanned the owl in front of him, side eyeing his lover to the left with an unimpressed face. “So romance is dead for you two, huh? How do you think relationships start out most of the time?”

Keiji swallowed his annoyed eye roll and replied calmly: “ All I'm saying is, as long as nothing big happened we can't be sure, that there is something going on between them.”

Even though Oikawa was right, mindlessly guessing around without any facts wouldn't get them far now.

“So how did they find you then? In order to search for divine lovers, you have to know who one is and who isn't. It's not like we leave a scent trail or something.”

Iwaizumis words hit right on the nails head.

The question had chewed a big hole in his stomach. It made him angry, frustrated and restlessness to not know, how they have found out about them.

“I don't know”, Akaashi replied and he hated these words so much. Not knowing was just another step closer to death. “It might sound weird, but they way they behaved..it was uncanny. They almost seemed inhuman. There was no way, we could have defeated them, fleeing was our only option. Even though we outnumbered them.”

Oikawas stomach turned again and in an instance, Iwaizumis thoughts echoed in Toorus mind, as he silently reassured him: _“Calm down. Nothing happened yet.”_

“Inhuman you say?”, Iwa-chan asked and trying to ease the situation, he gave Keiji a half-hearted smile, his shoulders relaxing as he took the glass of whiskey, going for another sip.

But Akaashi was serious. He had a detest for senseless conclusions as well, the worst things to happen were and would always be humans, that he was very sure of. Still, this deep rooted fear that arose in him as they were attacked was something he had never felt before. Only when he and Bokuto had parted, he had felt something somewhat familiar - it was the same nuance of existential dilemma.

“Maybe they were just trained differently Who knows what Washijou does to his men nowadays”, Akaashi sighed, stood up, rubbed his face and closed the conversation with that.

“Don't worry too much. You were attacked by surprise, as long as no one died it's fine”, Iwaizumi added on, but the green eyed owl has already left mentally, in his mind, he was already thinking about their next steps. They had to get out of here as soon as possible. Kenma needed to rest, but who told him they weren't still chased? If they didn't act fast enough, none of them would come out alive. Also, their friends in Miyagi would probably need their help, with every passing day their forces shrunk. They were brash and aggressive, leaving the impression that nothing could crush them, but once their heroism faded away, they would quiver and break down.

As long as no one gave them an order though, they had to stay in the north.

“I think I will go to bed now.”

Akaashi had needed the sleep, his body was drained and craved the quiet; craved the darkness. He wasn't even afraid to find himself stuck in one of his nightmares again. Main thing was, he wouldn't be thinking for a few hours and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow the sun would shine disgustingly bright again, Kenma would wake up, Iwaizumi and Oikawa would lead their way to the next base, quarreling and laughing, hitting and kissing the other as usual, being wonderfully contradicting and yet so perfectly complimentary.

Would Kuroo follow them? He would have to travel a bit for another save stay, a warm bed and three meals a day. _If_ they'd be safe.

Tossing his blanket aside, Akaashi stretched his limbs, not being able to sink into the wonderful, blissful stage when your body grew lighter, your senses number and sleep would await you with opened arms.

Already deciding to go to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, something _touched_ him.

Warm and tingly has it been, and it covered him like the softest blanket, more even like the touch of your dearest, when one came home and found themselves in the most welcoming, loving embrace.

Akaashi inhaled the air sharply, his fingers digging deep into the mattress.

 _His call was answered_.

He couldn't believe it, he felt like crying, but the pure joy that overran him made him solely smile as he enjoyed the sensation of Bokutos soul touching his.

He didn't know if he did it on purpose, maybe he didn't intent to connect with his divine counterpart, but Akaashi couldn't care less, he was dried out, empty, lacking and desiring his love so much, that he already feared the moment when Bokuto would let go of him.

Luckily, the euphoria led Keiji to sleep. A deep, well deserved slumber that was the reward for his endurance that day.

Finding himself in the void his soul was, Akaashi thought he was back in his reoccurring nightmare state, but surprisingly he felt no panic in his bones.

He felt relaxed, good.

Only now noticing the soft sheets underneath his fingers, he thought he might have woken up again, but when he opened his eyes, he was in a completely different room.

The bed wasn't very big, there was a window to his left, opened and the nightly wind let the white curtains dance softly. A mirror hung on the wall and as Akaashi sat up, his reflection stared back at him with a blank expression.

He tried opening his mouth, but his body didn't obey.

Was this really his body? It was his hair, his soft, pale skin, the deep green of his eyes and the same beauty mark on his left shoulder.

He noticed that he didn't even wear a T-Shirt.

There was a plant on one of the wooden shelves, on another stood a picture frame that reflected in the strong moon light, but Akaashi couldn't make out the motive.

And then it hit him.

It all smelled like _him_.

Pushing his nose deep into the soft pillow, he sunk into it, not knowing if it was a dream or another of his weird visions, the fever dream he had experienced before, but all he knew was that he wanted to stay.

As much as he had hated and cursed Bokuto Koutarou for leaving him behind, selfish and cold-hearted, he wanted to exhaust the moment, before he would find himself in his own bedroom again.

Before his mind would further get lost in his own thoughts though, he heard the door creak, opening slowly. Then there were feet on the ground, and before he could even turn around, a weight forced the mattress to sink in, and fingers brushed his neck.

His whole body was electrified and every hair on it stood straight up.

He knew this touch, the sensation of the rough fingertips; he had large, warm hands, hands that were made to be used, to show the signs of hard work, exhaustion and satisfaction.

Akaashi tried turning around, he wanted to see his face, wanted to look into his eyes that were the sun, but yet again, his limbs didn't move and he remained laying on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow.

Lips touched his neck, moved down to graze the delicate curve of his shoulder blades, hands wandered to his hips, lifted them carefully up, before pressing his erect cock between his cheeks.

Lightly moving, only imitating the motion, it rubbed painfully slow against Akaashis core and Keiji found himself moaning into the pillow, his hips giving in to the sensation, pressing harder against Bokutos thick cock.

The more heat arose inside of him, urging him to release the friction that had build up for so long, the more his conscious faded away, pulling him out of his dream state.

Akaashi begged it to let him stay, just this once, he didn't want to wake up.

Bokutos right arm wrapped around Keijis chest, and as he adjusted his body to the side, he pressed Akaashis frame closer to his bare, wide torso, his hips moving eagerly now, his slick dick making the movement fluid and quick.

Akaashi breathed in and out, groaning as he wanted him to push inside him, filling him out, fast and erratic, the feeling being a painful pleasure. As painful and pleasurable when Bokuto would leave from time to time whenever he was needed somewhere else, only to return home to his lover. And it would be the same impatience now, when he'd entered Akaashi, when he'd thrust into him deeply, forcing his lover to lose his composure and to fill the room with his moans.

It would make the experience real, making the Bokuto by his side _real_.

He wanted to call out for him, his name left his lips again and again as Koutarous hand found its way around Keijis hard dick, his thumb pressing on his tip.

He whimpered and threw his head back, his neck being covered in wet, hungry kisses that left his skin red and pulsating as Bokuto sucked on it, his teeth biting into the flesh when the strokes of his cock grew in its intensity.

The grip on his hips wasn't gentle anymore – it was demanding, wanting him, telling him that now, it was time to surrender and Akaashi wanted to give in and moaned silently in agreement.

Even if it was a dream, or a distorted, self fulfilling vision, even if he couldn't turn around to face his lover, kiss him, he has never felt him that close in years and he wanted to stay in his arms forever.

But in a split second the weight behind him disappeared, the hot knot inside of him left unraveled, frustrated, and soon, he found his conscious dragged from the scenery, back in endless dark.

Alone and yearning again.

All was black and he stayed in the void, for as long as it wanted him to be there.

The moment he was released, rays of sunshine which flooded his bedroom, greeted him and made him flinch by the sudden change of lightning.

With his blanket on the floor, he must have twisted and turned around in his sleep a lot. His forehead was damp, his shirt stuck partly to his body and to no surprise the inside of his boxers was wet and covered with white patches.

Shielding his eyes, he let himself fall back into the mattress and his lips turned into a bitter sweet smile.

He was confused, angry, sad, all those emotions that mixed and merged in his heart and made his thoughts jump into every direction.

He didn't even feel well rested, even though he had been granted such a sweet dream.

Something had happened since the day Kuroo has arrived. He felt it. Too many situations, too many moments happened, that left him wondering and question his sanity.

He hoped all would be better, when they'd leave for Miyagi soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...leaving you on a real banger here....or just a giant cockblock?? Jk, jk.  
> This chapter was just loaded with emotions, but I was really eager to finally write the intimate KuroKen moments!! Sometimes I feel like a reader when I write my story...it usually goes like: "Ah, yes, I was craving that fluff scene....can't wait to write their kiss scene!! Why is it taking me so long to do it? Work faster!!" Yeah, It's just not easy providing for you own happiness sometimes..
> 
> Did you enjoy the chapter? Any early ideas, thoughts or conspiracies of what will happen next? Let me know in the comments and thanks again for reading!! Stay safe and take care xx


	5. Voices Over The Country

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //opens coffin and rises from the dead//  
> I'M BACK!!  
> hello, I know I've been keeping some of you waiting maybe, for that I apologize! I think I've mentioned before that Uni keeps me occupied, and though I'm not abandoning this story, chapters will be updated slower than usual.   
> This chapter is the longest I've written so far, purely unintentional, then again kind of my gift for the people who might have been waiting for an update!   
> Again, thank you all so so so much for the support and sticking with this story!! xoxo

This frosty morning, Bokuto Koutarou awoke with his blanket on the floor, pillows all over the bed and his body shivering from the chilly air that ate its way into his bones.

He had forgotten to close the window before he went to sleep.

The heat was ripped from his body, his nose felt stiff and cold, as well as his toes and fingers.

Rays of sunlight fell through the window and the sound of birds chirping in excitement on the rooftop gave Bokuto a sense of ease though - despite waking up in sudden and utter confusion, the morning had greeted him fairly so far.

Slowly blinking the rest of his sleep away, his beaming, golden eyes moved down to his rising chest – his heart was still pounding and while his mind worked on full speed, his vision caught the bulge between his legs and the damp, small spot on his gray boxers waved at him like a red light signal.

As soon as the memories of the recent night hit him, the feeling in his chest transformed into beautiful, fluttering excitement yet again. A sensation the man hasn't felt in a very long time.

He remembered almost spitting out his coffee as Akaashi had called out for him; there was this striking desperation that immediately took over his body and even though they were parted by a distance no one could name in length, it was as if he stood right next to him.

All the fear, the urgency and need had hit Bokuto like the precise, forceful swing of a sledgehammer and the inside of his usually so bright and sunny being turned dark and rainy. Guilt had placed itself deeply in his chest and with every breath the pressure within his rib-cage only grew in its intensity.

Akaashi must have been in an extremely bad situation to call out for him, Bokuto had known that. Keiji was the master of composure, he had seen him take in the grim scenery of headless torsos and burning corpses without twitching a muscle in his face; he hadn't even see him cry that day when Kuroo died.

Whatever it was, Akaashi must have been on the verge of losing it to let himself slip so carelessly and the mere thought of the person he loved so dearly being wounded, trapped, held hostage or – God forbid – even dying made Bokuto almost puke.

The contrast of his cold fingertips on his warm chest brought the man back to reality and for a moment he pushed the thought of his divine lover to the side to close the window and hop under the shower.

Hot water poured onto his head and drenched his body with the warm liquid, bringing the life back into his stiff muscles as he felt his limbs tickle and burn. With the rest of the bathroom disappearing in thick clouds of steam, Koutarou tiredly leaned his head against the tiled wall next to him and closed his eyes.

He had decided to answer him. Even though it has been three years – or forever, in his words – since the last time he had seen, heard or even sensed anything from Akaashi he could not bring himself to decline his request.

After all, he loved him and wished for nothing more than to meet him again and even if it was just their souls touching; the slightest, lightest, yet strongest and most honest sensation they could give each other.

He had laid on his back, the dark consuming his room and relaxed his muscles, his arms and legs resting peacefully on the mattress.

The striking, calm, yet so intrusive deep green of the forest that Akaashis eyes were formed in front of his inner eye and he allowed himself to revisit all the memories they have shared; all the first times, all the last times as well as the times that might lie ahead. In his dream like state Bokuto found himself smiling and his hand reaching for the empty spot next to him.

Then, suddenly and without a warning, his whole being felt lifted. Carried by an unknown force, he felt comforted by a touch that wasn't visible, so warm, it could be a blanket out of sunshine that he had tugged himself in.

He was happy.

Hasn't it been for his fingers curling, the softness of his blanket between them, he might have opened his eyes and expected his lover to stand in front of him.

The harsh reality could have turned the blissful moment into blue, heavy sadness, but Bokutos smile only grew wider and wider as he recognized the difference in Akaashis feelings this time.

So he was doing fine, at last.

The sleep he found that night was all consuming and well deserved, and it was very likely that he had dreamed of his lover - else he couldn't explain the mess he and his bed were.

Putting on a wool turtleneck and black pants, Bokuto drank even two cups of coffee, preparing his breakfast in the meantime: the twisted feeling of happiness, excitement and confusion still desperately clinging onto him, no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

Maybe it was a sign? A gift send by the universe, that soon they would reunite.

Akaashi would forgive him, both of them would be fine, Lord Washijous reign would end and they would rebuild the country together, making it a fair and democratic place.

Bokuto held into his motion, gulping down his last bite of rice as his mind hang onto the last strain of thought.

Would he? Would Akaashi forgive him? If they'd ever see another again, would they be able to start anew? Akaashi grew up in the poorest sector of the capitol, and life in the 'flea market' had formed his mindset in every way: what he considered fair, appropriate, his goals and aspirations, his social skills, even though he had adjusted well to the lifestyle of the people from the rich and the middle class, he would never forget his roots.

“ _I'm not used to being friends with many people”_ , Akaashi had told him one day as they spend their precious free time in the corners of the academy's library. Hidden in the safety that provided the loaded bookshelves, Akaashi felt comfortable enough to talk freely with his friend. Bokuto remembered how beautifully soft the sun kissed the tip of his hair, giving him the angelic shine of an otherworldly being. Good thing Akaashi had faced the stack of books in front of them, or else he would have ended the conversation quickly with Bokuto non stop starring at him. He had already been madly in love with the green eyed owl at that time, Bokuto just hadn't realized it yet - and neither did Keiji.

“ _You have many people that like you and it's because of your outgoing and open nature. But I was taught to stay quiet and hide myself and not to talk to anyone. In the poor sector you're not granted with the chance to experience trust and loyalty most of the times.”_

The way his soft lips opened when he spoke, each and every curve of them so fine and neatly connecting to another, like the long stroke of a painting brush, left Bokuto completely mesmerized. And while he soaked up each and every word that left Akaashis lips he couldn't stop starring at his delicate, beautiful face.

For Bokuto it was unfair that someone that good was punished by fates cruel nature.

And in his eyes, Akaashi was so good, so _angelic_ , he had sworn silently many times before, that he would try to keep the world from corrupting and staining him any further – there's already been enough damage done to him. And yet, it was has been he himself hurting him the most.

Koutarou felt like losing his face the moment he turned his back to Akaashi. The way those deep green eyes were pleading for him and also fuming with a form of rage and disappointment never seen before, still made Bokuto uneasy to the point where his body would be shaken by a wave of shivers.

But maybe, just maybe he would be granted with a chance of redemption.

Maybe, Akaashi would hate him at the beginning, but eventually learn to love him again.

Bokuto still did.

Maybe, he would be able to hold him close, stroke those white wings, caress the feathers - his bulky hands oh so clumsy while doing so – and be blessed with the angel by his side again.

If he could only explain to him why he had to leave.

Quickly cleaning the dishes, the wavering surface of the soapy water partly mirrored the bold features of his face.

Bokuto had willingly grown out his usual spiky hair; now it was shaggy and the strains of black and white became dangerously long, covering his vision whenever he bend forward to tie his shoes, wash the dishes or pick up wood from the forests ground.

“Akaashi would definitely hate that”, he murmured and dried his hands after emptying the sink. He didn't know how long he could still stay at this place. This cottage was a very comfortable live in: he learned that self sufficiency in the middle of nowhere was the best thing to do, after he had to leave the rebels behind.

The minute his mind trailed back to the happenings three years ago, his hand automatically rubbed the sensitive spot where his neck and upper back connected. Right there, where the skin was the thinnest, the bones of his spine almost breaking through it, visible as clear as day, his swollen fingertips traced over the deep, white scar. It wasn't really long but thick instead. Even though he had been drugged as the chip got removed, the phantom pain of the scalpel rang inside of him whenever he touched the scar or thought of his time in Washijous research laboratory.

He bit his tongue, the cold, white light that had illuminated every room in the building driving him more and more insane as the weeks had passed. In a way, the endless white of the world outside was almost as frightening sterile as the bright void the research labs had been. Then again, Bokuto was happy to live his life freely, even if it seemed absurd to call himself free when he was only a hermit, wandering through the country, trying to flee from the government, trying to disappear, dwelling on the thought, if he should try to flee with a boat across the sea to start anew somewhere else: a new country, a new name, a new place to live and build his identity on.

But he couldn't bring himself to leave.

Not when he clung so dearly to the person he once was, not, when he knew he would leave the person he loved the most behind to die.

And then, there was the mystery of Kuroo standing in front of his former homes front door, asking for a job on his property and a place to stay.

Even though he knew they experimented with genes and tried to clone people, tried to search for ways to overcome fatal illness and disease, to make the human metabolism overcome pain and wounds quicker he had never known they actually tried to bring humans back to life.

Even to this day, the thought of it left an uncanny sensation inside of him; a feeling that had forced Bokuto to lie awake at night, forming painful knots in his stomach and head, robbing him of needed hours of sleep.   
Images of corpses on operation tables ghosted his dreams, black and blue hands beginning to twitch as blood started to circulate, synapses carrying the information to breath from the brain to the lungs.

Absolutely, _horrifying_.

It was moments like these that made him long for Akaashis presence even more.

The presence he had felt yesterday – so close and yet so frustratingly far away.

But maybe, just maybe, the distance between them had been closing for the past couple months.

As he stepped outside of the front door, rolling up his turtle neck to protect his chin and mouth from the sharp, cold air, the sound of birds echoing from the inside of the woods caught his attention; and despite the temperature being below zero, the kiss of the sun on his head was surprisingly warm.

The city by night has been his favorite version of the capitol so far.

The neon lights shining in every color of the rainbow, hugging the tall buildings with their facades of gray and reflecting the play of colors in walls of glass, resembling the portal of a twisted, mirrored world that was once formerly known as reality. It always made him forget his loneliness, just for a tiny bit.

Back then, he had loved to watch the sun rise with his best friend: their time at Shiratorizawa had only chiseled their dreams and aspirations into future achievements that they just hadn't reached yet.

Even though Tendou had been the more insecure one when it came to his future, still open to change his path when he felt called out to do so, he knew that his friendship with Ushijima would never suffer from it. He had already known from the first time they have met each other, that the sober and stern Ushijima was meant to become someone great. Like his father, he wanted to be a great colonel, even more: he strove to become one of the best.

From the very beginning Washijou had kept a close eye on him. Frankly, there were more options next to Ushijima for Washijou, but Tendou knew that no other exuded pure strength to the greatness Wakatoshi did. And strength was all Washijou wanted in a successor.

Dawns gray, blue and lilac silhouette painted the city in a dull, hopeless light and the vermillion that Tendou Satoris eyes were glowed, completely ignoring the exhaustion in his body.

He remembered the times he had seen the sun rise with his best friend. It didn't happen all too often, because Ushijima took his sleep schedule (and therefore a healthy lifestyle) very serious. And yet, they have found themselves watching the birds get up early at 5 am, fog kissing the ground, damping the grass, flowers, bicycles that were left in front of the school building, rays of sunlight pushing thick clouds to the side.

But these days laid in the past.

Tendou couldn't even remember the exact reasons why they occasionally decided to the the sun rise.

He enjoyed it always – he loved the closeness it created between them. The love they shared had always been very subtle.

Unspoken.

Untouched.

Even purposefully overlooked.

But even though they never had put a word on it (and even though Wakatoshi tended to be a bit _dense_ sometimes when it came to feelings) Tendou knew that he was his divine counterpart. Being the loner he was, he wasn't only his best friend, but the one who always took him and appreciated him for who he truly is.

And Tendou admired and adored everything Ushijima was.

But there was no future between them: maybe there would never be the opportunity to change what seemed to be set in stone.

There was no room for love in Washijous plan to form the world to his liking's. There was no room for _Tendou_ in Wakatoshis life in the eyes of Lord Washijou.

As more and more people emerged from their cozy and warm homes to the busy streets of the capitol, like blood running through veins, breathing life into the monochrome landscape, it reminded him of the fear he had felt whenever he was threatened with the possibility that they could have been parted one day.

It started out slow and quiet; Tendou had mistaken it for stress or even some sort of twisted excitement as he started his career as an aspiring Major – but the excitement turned into cold dread the longer he was separated from Ushijima.

There was no reason for Tendou to move from the capitol to the south coast Japans – especially since he was no part of the navy. There was no reason for him to keep doing the paper work, whenever there was an assembly of the Majors and Generals held; assemblies chosen recruits that _pursued_ the high ranks usually would participate in when their work was to evenly high standards.

And Tendou was _excellent_ at what he did.

The moment he noticed he was constantly transferred whenever he was working in the same unit as Ushijima made Tendous heavy heart realize something very scary and devastating: they were _intentionally_ separated.

The reasons his superiors would come up with were ridiculous, not even once did Tendou believe them when he was told that there was an urgent need of reinforcement on the borders, that he should show his leadership qualities, and the most funny one: he was told to take vacation in order to prevent himself from burning out.

Even now, his lips curled into a bittersweet smile whenever he remembered those words.

Tendou slowly but steady lost sight and the man that he once called his other half was nothing more than a sheer illusion he had created from his memories.

If it was just for the occasional distance, the red haired man would have kept quiet and endured: it was fairly normal to not see each other for a few months.

But sooner or later, his body started hurting, his mind blunting to the point, that he got scolded for his carelessness on a daily bases – but there was only one thought occupying his mind: something is _very_ off.

And Tendous senses never failed.

Maybe it was due to his hypersensitivity he was diagnosed with as a child, maybe it was some sort of gift he was granted with as a divine lover, but as his soul called out for Ushijima and never received an answer, not even a short, yet reassuring, soothing touch he decided to follow his instincts.

Abandoning his work, leaving the base he was stationed at, he traveled back to the capitol to investigate on his own.

And never has he felt so much pain the moment Ushijimas olive eyes seemingly hissed at him, gleaming in annoyance when he told him, that he has chosen the worst time for a visit.

And if it wasn't enough to be rejected by his best friend, Lord Washijou himself surprised Tendou with a one to one meeting.

“ _We are clearing a path for him right now. As my successor, the whole country's responsibilities lie in his hands. There is only one thing to focus on right now._ ”

Tendous eyes wandered through the fresh springs view Washijous personal garden offered. A quiet too happy environment for a man that dark and grim.

There was a cat hiding in the shadows of a mighty cherry tree. The crescent shaped pupils in the pool of green focused on two birds that searched for worms in the ground. Carelessly they jumped on the little, lean legs and the sight of the predator in the back, coldly watching its next meal last joyful moments, hauntingly reminded Tendou of himself.

Maybe he wasn't even worthy being called a meal: maybe he was just a fun toy all along.

“ _It's best for you to transfer back. You know I appreciate your abilities, but they aren't required here at the moment, it's-_ ”

Washijou was interrupted by the sound of the garden gate opening. A man in a formal, yet casual two piece suit approached the table the two of them were sitting at and by making his way to the men he frightened the two little birds away and the body of the cat flinched and its eyes widened. The ruined opportunity probably triggering some sort of annoyance in the animal.

“ _Oh, I didn't know you were expecting guests, sorry for intruding._ ”

Takeda Ittetsu: the man with the softest smile and yet the most frightening eyes.

Tendou knew him as the head of the research labs, he was also one of Washijous closest advisors, next to the old Nekomata.

The deep brown that laid on Tendou as Takeda greeted him with an ever so friendly smile made him uneasy as always.

If Tendous intuition didn't lie, there was a purposefully hidden intention in his gestures, words and actions. He made himself look trustable and easy to approach, but Satori swore by his life that this man held a darker side to him.

“ _I was just about to leave, don't mind_ ”, the man with the hair like fire exclaimed and instantly got up, nodding a respectful goodbye to Lord Washijou.

“ _Really? I thought our Lord had mentioned taking you with us to our laboratories._ ” Takedas eyes mirrored genuine confusion and the two pieces of coal Washijous creased face responded with an unmistakable _no_.

“ _Even if so_ ”, Tendou said carelessly, not even bothering to turn around and face them. “ _I would have declined. I think I don't care about your twisted intrigues you hide from the world._ ”

The air turned _cold_.

Tendous words were the truth. Without a proper invitation or justified appointment no one was allowed to visit the research labs, regardless of rank, job or social status.

Reports of their work were submitted to Washijou and his advisors to keep their work ethic in check, as well as to be informed about newest 'results' – whatever these results were.

Tendou remembered having to clean areas for the research teams whenever they needed it, even escorting them from time to time when they road was occupied by the civil rebellion.

There was one incident with a temple that was completely destroyed during the rebels first coup against Washijou. Tendou remembered the urgency with which he was advised to free the area.

“ _There is an underground archive that might hold some old paperwork to it. We don't want it to get destroyed._ ”

“ _Since when does Washijou hold old relics so close to his heart, when his biggest wish is to rewrite history?_ ”, he had joked with his friend Reon.

“ _It's not exactly an order from Washijou himself, it's actually a command from Takeda._ ”

Tendou had wondered that whole day what on earth the scientists wanted with some old priests journal when they mainly specified on a medical field, as well as chemistry and physics.

His concern grew even bigger when it was the secret service that ordered them to leave as soon as they had freed the destroyed temple complex from rubble and ash.

Tendou – as the leader of the mission – had bravely stood up against the squat leader of the spies. But Sakusa Kiyoomi was a man that didn't even bother talking back. His glassy, dark eyes, the raven black curly hair and the white mask that covered half of his face gave him quiet the intimidating look. He ran his hand through his hair and Tendou got a glimpse of the two beauty marks on his forehead that have been formerly covered by his black locks.

“ _It's an order from Lord Washijou. Now move. We will get the remaining stuff out of there._ ”

A direct order from Washijou?

Tendou watched as Sakusa and the two other, almost identical looking men (he remembered they were twins) took over their mission and ordered _his_ soldiers to leave.

Even though Satori was never the person to care too much about the ego, believing taking too much pride in the self was unnecessary and pretty much an unhealthy construct of society, he had been _pissed_.

Not only were his troop ordered to do the dirty work, but they were withheld special information.

The secret service? Did they accidentally dug up some sort of holy grail?

There was no use for Sakusa and his men if it were merely some old scripts, journals and maybe some withering, dusty relics.

Also, they would have been archived normally, but why was it that the Washijous scientist were the first to get their hands on it? Either there was something special about it or this was a plain and normal procedure Tendou just haven't heard of.

Little did he know what _exactly_ was going on in these _hell holes_.

What would have happened if he would have persisted in declining Takedas offering to take a look in the laboratories? That day in Lord Washijous garden, what was it that made him change his mind?

Did he really plan on taking Tendou with him from the beginning or was it just Takeda manipulating and merging words as he spoke?

Years later, Tendou was convinced it was a tactic in trying to scare him away, to make him leave Ushijima behind.

But he loved him, and their souls were bound to each other since the beginning of time.

If one of them would die, if they would fail to complete their purpose on earth they would reincarnate – somewhere, sometime – and be together again.

The moment Takeda had revealed their true atrocities Tendou had felt it for the first time.

He knew what _he_ was meant to do.

His purpose was to protect Ushijima.

Washijous claws had already placed themselves around his throat. And he had already started to squeeze, increasing his strength with every day that passed. Before Ushijima would notice it, there'd be no air left in his lungs. Like a lobster, slowly cooked, enjoying the warmth first before screaming as the skin peeled from his flesh.

“ _You love him, do you?”_

The words still echoed in his mind, even to this day.

In a private conversation they held after Tendou had received a personal tour from the head of the research center, Tendou could literally _feel_ how the small, lean, inconspicuous man ripped away all the layers Tendous heart was hidden under.

“ _You want to be with him, but it's against our Lords wishes. What a cruel turn fate took on you two_.”

The red Tendous eyes were blazed up, his nerves tensing underneath his uniform. Raising a brow, he was about to tell him to _fuck right off_ , when Takedas sweet voice interrupted him.

“ _What if I tell you, you could outsmart fate?_ ”

Outsmarting fate? Tendou had laughed in his face back then, but the smile of the scientist remained unbroken on his lips.

There was no way anyone could outsmart the moods of the universe.

But the offer he was given made his heart pound in anticipation and the mere, slight chance to not lose the one he loved completely made Tendou lose all sense of rationality.

All it took was to become a puppet of Washijou, one of the earliest test subjects of the research labs, becoming part of the secret service and dedicating his life to the _hunt_.

Now he was only a shell of what he once was.

There was a hint, a small spark of the color and warmth left that once filled his being. Sometimes it flickered and pulsated when he looked at Wakatoshi – when they had the spare time to talk. It was never more than catching up with the happenings of the last couple days, never more than the answer to the standard question of _how are you doing_? Tendou wished he was able to wake up with him early in the morning, see the sun rise or go out for a drink or two whenever they had a free evening. Now, Tendou looked at him and felt nothing more than a tasteless memory of what once was and the eager wish to go back to the desires he once held for Ushijima.

“ _What will it take to outsmart fate?_ ”, he had asked that day and Takedas brown eyes smiled.

“ _Your soul. Nothing more than your soul._ ”

“Don't worry too much about it Iwa-chan, winter will be over soon, so it's probably just normal.”

“I'm telling you, we usually have snow till late March. Where on earth have you been living your whole life?”

“In your heart Iwa-chan! In you're- hey! Stop hitting me!”

Kenma rolled his eyes as the voices in front of his door only seemed to become louder and louder.

He had been bound to his godforsaken bed for three days now and frankly, the fact that he wasn't allowed to do anything – and Akaashi took anything very seriously as far as it wasn't going to the toilet or eating and drinking – probably sensitized Kozumes even further.

So much even, that Oikawas playful whining rang in his eardrum and made him suppress a groan.

As much as Kenma missed being able to stand up and walk around freely, he was sure that it would take some time to readjust to the noise.

Whenever Kenma tried to relive the memories of what happened back then in the tunnel, his mind just went blank. It might have been his physical condition wiping away the fragments that he so desperately tried to piece together, yet he never ended up with a coherent image.

All that was left was a feeling.

Half hiding his face in behind his blanket, his stomach turned again, his blood ran through his body, tickled his toes and made his heart rise in excitement.

Kenma frowned, trying to swallow down the sensation. He wasn't stupid. He knew _exactly_ what that feeling was.

And even worse, he only got it when his mind wandered back to Kuroo.

Fully absorbed in his own dilemma, he didn't even notice Oikawa opening the door and shushing Iwaizumi who still barked his last, annoyed remarks at his boyfriend.

“Iwa-chan, you're gonna wake him up!”

“Don't bother, I'm already awake”, Kenma muttered, his golden eyes peeking from behind the blanket like a fawn.

Toorus bright brown eyes matched the smile on his lips, while Hajime behind him had his arms crossed, his gaze wandering the room up and down erratically before deciding to open the windows.

“Smells like a ferret in here! Has no one blessed you with a bit of fresh air the last days?” Oikawa sat next to Kenma and rolled his eyes by the harsh remark. “Of course we aired out the room, but our poor Kozume-kun was suffering from a very high fever! So a few minutes must be enough.”

“It's probably just me. I really need a shower”, Kenma remarked and admitting to his poor hygiene made him feel very embarrassed out of the sudden.

As Oikawa promptly pulled the blanket away from the small man underneath him, the black and blonde male flinched, goosebumps covering his naked legs and arms.

“You could've said so earlier. I can assist you-”

Shaking his head, Kenmas forehead creased, the thought of Oikawa seeing him naked made him cringe – even worse, it flustered him to the degree, that he felt he might turn red on the spot.

“Oh come on! I have changed your clothes before. And it's not that I'm not familiar with what a male body looks like; I'm a doctor goddammit!”

Clearly, Oikawa disliked it when his patients whined, more so when it was about necessities. But Oikawa also knew his patients by heart: despite being a good medic he was also brilliant in reading people.

“Fine, then let someone else do it.”

Kenmas displeased face remained.

“That's not it. Showering is just too intimate.”

 _Too intimate?_ , Oikawa thought and raised a brow, ready to go in for a big tease, but decided to let go of his sneaky remark.

“Then I'll ask Akaashi later on.”

Again, the cat shook his head. “I just told you. I don't want to.”

Placing his hand on his right cheek, Tooru clicked his tongue and his eyes wandered to the window, longingly fixing the bright, blue sky.

“I get it, I get it. You should have told me right from the beginning to ask Kuroo then.”

The response that followed was a quick, solid kick into Oikawas side. Wondering, how he was able to bundle so much power after being bed ridden for three days straight made Oikawa frown in confusion and anger – Iwaizumi on the other hand just sneered at his boyfriend.

“Serves you right, Shittykawa.”

Rubbing the sore spot, Tooru didn't even bother answering.

The burnmarks Kenmas glare left on his skin were enough for him to hold back his remark. He knew how people would react to his sarcastic undertones or teasing remarks, but for him everything was so obvious and therefore so easy to solve: it was painfully irritating when other _chose_ not to see it.

“Fine. Do it yourself. But Iwa-chan will guard the door in case something happens.”

Not even before Kenma had fully registered what has been said, Iwaizumi glared at the man in front of him, gritting his teeth. “Don't pull me into this, just because you're a dick!”

“Please”, Kenma interfered. Although his voice was still thin he managed to set the right tone for the words that followed. “I can do it myself. I sit down while showering and pay attention not to move too fast or overheat.”

Oikawas pretty face looked displeased, to say the least, but he nodded in agreement.

“Fine”, he pouted. “But if you're not back after 15 minutes I'll send Iwa-chan after you – for real! But for now, let me check up on your wound.”

After Oikawas inspection (which ended with a pleasing result: the wound was 'healing beautifully') Kenma was allowed to finally free himself of the stench that clung onto him. Taking a shower was indeed more difficult than he had anticipated, but the effect it had on him was worth all the stress.

He had to be very careful around his just freshly sewn shot wound, leaving his left shoulder and arm untouched by the soap, but getting rid of the sweat and dirt of the past couple days felt close to cleansing his soul.

As he dried his body and combed his hair, he took a good look at his face in the mirror. He was still a bit pale and his blue eye bags gave him an almost ghostly appearance, but once he was back in clean clothes Kenma felt like he could conquer the whole world – almost.

Iwaizumi was _indeed_ waiting outside of the bathroom. With an unenthusiastic expression, he seemed relieved when the small cat stepped outside of the warm, damp room and simply asked: “Wanna get something to eat?”

As they walked down the stairs Iwaizumi fought with himself, if he should lend his friend an arm. He still seemed weakened, after all, his body wasn't fully recovered. But Iwaizumi Hajime was also a man who believed, that whenever something weakened you, you had to fight against it to regain your strength. And sometimes this even counted for your physical condition.

Oikawa hated him for his stubborn, very idealistic mindset, but his bickering fell quiet whenever Iwaizumi outran a fever by adding one apple more to his diet.   
In the kitchen, Kozume settled for two toasts with marmalade and a cup of tea. Not really nutritious, but it would do for the beginning. Iwaizumi joined in, though eating the leftovers of the curry they had yesterday. Sitting in silence, only their chewing and an occasional slurp breaking it, another presence entered the room. Green eyes lit up as they discovered the lean, small body of Kenma at the dining table.   
  
“You're feeling better already?”, it left Akaashis lips wondering. Putting down his bread, the small cat nodded. “Much better. Walking shouldn't be a problem.”  
Keiji only nodded, noticing that he forgot to take off his jacket he peeled the thick material from his body and continued: “The better you feel the sooner we can leave.”

“Wouldn't we sit in the car most of the times anyway?”, the black and blonde male asked and Iwaizumi answered, not looking up from his bowl: “Depends. Ideally yes, but realistically probably not.”

  
Right. They didn't have the privilege to settle for comfort.  
  
“I don't want to pressure you, but yes, time is running short, because we don't know if we're being followed or watched.” Now, Keiji sat down with the rest, pouring himself a glass of water.  
Not knowing was the equal to _dying_. But since that incident at the lake Keiji wasn't too sure if he surely didn't know what was going to happen. The 'fever dream', as he decided to call it, had awakened a deep sense of distrust in everyone and everything he's known so far.

Naturally, Kenma picked up on the uneasiness that radiated from his friend. He hasn't experienced him as antsy as now for a long time and surely the past couple days had taken a toll on him.

“We can go. It's fine by me, the sooner we go the quicker we can leave everything behind.”

Akaashi knew it wasn't intentional, but his friends words triggered the memories of his own loss and yet again, his mind wandered to Bokuto.   
The glassy eyes gave Keijis absent thoughts away and under the table Kenmas hand reached for his friends.  
  
Gingerly, he wrapped his fingers around Akaashis, noticing how cold they were, he held them even tighter. Only then, blinking in confusion, he directed his attention back to Kozume.  
For a moment he was at loss for words and the sudden quietness even made Iwaizumi look up. “Even if it would be tomorrow?”, Akaashi asked, almost unsure of his own words. Kenma nodded.

“Yes, you can trust me. It is fine, I can pull through it.”  
  
The way Kenmas eyes were fixated on him, sensitive and ever so gentle, his soft hands touch warm and soothing, made Akaashis heart throb.  
In the way his friend so willingly let his guard down around him, so vulnerable and easy to damage, brought something other from the deep, black sea Keijis unconscious was back to the surface. Something Keiji hated to be reminded of, a stinging, burning sensation that felt like hot iron in his guts.  
  
He forced a smile, then slowly pulled his hand away. His action was followed by Kenmas hardened expression. Kozume has seen this bittersweet smile on him before. Ever so often it crossed his face – whenever he was close to him, he backed away in pain.   
“Alright”, Akaashi spoke as he got up. “I trust you. Tomorrow it will be then.”  
  


In the dark, the howling of an owl, which greeted the deepest hour of the night, echoed vibrantly through the thick forest up to the wooden walls that surrounded Kenma.

Tomorrow they’d really leave for good this time.

Yet again, a place that held memories so precious to him was left behind to rot or be conquered by those they hated the most.

For now, there was no way getting down to Miyagi with the railway being destroyed. The walls of ice and snow would only dare to melt away under the warm, fresh April sun and because Washijous troops marched closer to the north, pushing them back further and further, there was rarely to no time to take a few days of to repair the broken rails.

Akaashi has mentioned, that there was a good chance they’d have to take care of the issue. Their allies in the north needed supplies: weapons, spare parts for broken engines and vehicles, clothes, medicine - the list could go on.

Lightly tracing the healing wound on his left shoulder, he’d whispered his silent goodbyes to the walls he had lived in.

Even though this was no home, the lifestyle of always being ready to pack your things and leave when the situation required it, left Kenma hungry for some stability. He knew that Akaashi kept a journal which documented the happenings of their different stays in each and ever base they have occupied till now. And even though it was ridiculous, nothing more than a childish daydream, he secretly wished that he’d write down their casual day to day life in it as well.

Somewhat like a dairy.

Footsteps in front of his door pulled him out of his thoughts and instinctively the small cat closed his eyes, wishing for the nuisance to just disappear.

Unfortunately, the door handle was pushed and someone entered his bedroom.

Not knocking beforehand, not even asking if he was still awake, a tall figure approached his bed, not even making the slightest sound and even though Kenma could feel the presence coming closer the lack of mass he felt made the whole situation somewhat eerie.

He knew it was one of his friends, but by the way the person moved it most likely could’ve been a ghost as well.

Suddenly, the smell of cold pine hit him. As if he was standing on top of a mountain, just breaking through the fog and the wet undergrowth at dawn, his lungs were filled with cool, crisp air and Kenma’s heart starting raising when he finally realized who entered his bedroom.

Replacing the bottle of water on his bedside table, Kuroo carefully rose his hand and the warmth radiating from it almost matched the heat on Kenma’s face as it hovered above his forehead, lingering in the air for a few seconds.

Kenma was good, no, even excellent at faking facial expressions, being unreadable and internalizing his emotions to the point that he couldn’t express them even if he wanted to.

With Kuroo though, he seemed to lose control whenever he needed it the most; right now he wanted nothing more for him to leave, and yet he was a shaky mess underneath the sheets.

Gently did Kuroos palm rest on him: the touch was careful, almost as if he would be in charge of a very precious and expensive relic.

In the split second that Kuroos touch remained on the small cats face, all of Kenma’s nerves ran wild, the synapses in his brain exploding as they registered the sensation that felt foreign and familiar at the same time.

He flinched, pushing himself further into the mattress and immediately the black cat pulled its big paw away, eyeing the man underneath him with a tender expression.

The golden pools in Kenmas face coyly looked up to Kuroos hazel eyes and unsure of what to say he just covered half his face with the blanket he so desperately clung to.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up”, Kuroo spoke softly and the low tone of his voice made Kenma relax somehow. There was always something very lullaby-like about Kuroo whispering or just talking softly. In the past, Kenma had fallen asleep plenty of times when they’d stood up late at night, lying in bed, just talking and imagining life outside of the poor sector.

“It’s fine”, he replied, the tone of his voice as quiet as the silence that laid over this night.

“I was awake anyway..”

In the darkness of the room, Kuroos lips formed a faint smile. Though it was hard to make out his face, Kenma could hear it through the way he spoke.

“You’re a tough one, kitten. You pushed that fever away like it was nothing. And you walk around like you’ve just needed a good stretch.”

The chuckle that followed made Kenmas heart jump. Tetsurous voice was only a whisper now and his finger lightly brushed the strains of black and blond out of Kenmas face.

“But don’t overdo it.”

Every single motion from Kuroo, every little bit of friction from the small skin to skin contact made the small cat in the bed dizzy, feeling feverish and weak all over again. And yet, he wanted his large palm to caress him, lean against it, rub his cheek against the callus of his hands and tell him how thankful he was for Kuroo to be by his side, saving him from his near death - how much he appreciated his presence even though he was still fighting the urge to push him away.

Kenma wondered about Kuroos sudden, very affectionate gesture, but couldn't really find an asnwer for his behavior. The black cat could‘ve grown even more into his charismatic and magnetic personality over the years - maybe it was nothing more than an attempt to care for him. But deep down, a small voice in Kenma hoped for it to be honest and genuine.

„Why do you call me that?“, was all he could ask though. The movement of Kuroos slender fingers stopped.

„Call you what?“

„That nickname.“

Now, his wide grin revealed his teeth, eyes gleaming and pulsating with amusement.

“Mhm, you mind?”

It took Kozume a few seconds before he answered.

“Depends on your intention with it.”

“Then my intentions are all good.”

A deep line drew between Kenmas eyebrows and Kuroo chuckled at the sight of it.

“Ioh, I can already feel your eyes one me - I don’t use it for mockery, promise.”

„If you say so“, Kenma mumbled and his fingers nervously fumbled with the soft fabric of his blanket. He then asked: „Why are you here anyway?“

Kuroo seemed to have expected this question and immediately told him, that Oikawa had send him to check on his condition one more time before they'd leave in the morning. There was still the possibility that his health could worsen and with their departure tomorrow he had to be extra sure of Kozumes health.

His hands squeezed the material now – apparently kicking him once wasn't enough. Kenma really had to remind him a second time that Oikawa should _not_ interfere and keep his hands to himself. If he had such a fun time playing Cupid, Kenma would use his natural talent for finding pairs and hide all of his medical equipment.   
  
Better, he could steal away his lube and it'll cause him enough frustration to throw a tantrum. Yet again, Kozume didn't want to pull Iwaizumi into the situation, he was innocent after all, but then again telling _Hajime_ about his boyfriends shenanigans would probably get him one or two solid kicks in the-

“You seem upset. Is it something I said?”

The small cat didn't even realize how deeply he got caught up in his revenge fantasies. It left him uneasy and a bit embarrassed, but he answered honestly: “No..it's just Oikawa. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“You think so? I think he's a good guy.”

The remark was sweet – Tetsurou had said it without thinking for too long and Kenma was strangely happy about the fact that even in his apparent 'second' life, Kuroo was still finding himself liking and even befriending the people from his past.

“He is a good guy..we are friends after all. But even friends can be difficult to handle sometimes.”

Kuroo nodded in agreement. He never really had a 'friend' or something close to that he believed but what the small cat said seemed to make sense.

Before he could add something on to the statement, Kenma continued, now, a bit more erratic than before: “You said I look upset?”

Kuroo rose a brow, the less apathetic tone of his voice irritating him a bit, though it was fun to watch when Kenmas cool composure crumbled.

“Yes, I think so. You furrow your brows a lot and pout with your lips. And your eyes glare up as if you try to kill someone with a glance.”

The details Kuroo gave away made the man in front of him almost raise his brows in surprise. Kuroo always had been pretty observant, but Kenma had been convinced that he wasn't interesting enough as a subject to be analyzed by him. Then again, things like that always came naturally to Kuroo and with that Kenma quickly scolded himself to not get too worked up by it.

There was something bugging him though.

“How come you can see my face anyway? It's almost pitch black in here.”

Indeed it was. The rooster head thought about the statement for a while. He couldn't _fully_ see in the dark, he was no real cat after all, but since he lived life through his own eyes was it really that strange for him to have that much of a good eyesight in the dark?

He shrugged his shoulders in response, but realized – given by what was said just before – Kenma probably didn't notice that.

“I just do. My eyes are sharp, they have always been. Maybe it's good genetics.”

The response did not suffice enough to please Kozume, but Kuroos words seemed genuine. He would leave it for now, but keep it in mind. Maybe it really was just a natural blessing some people received.

For a few seconds it was quiet and the howling of the owl was all that filled the room.

“Well, seems that you're doing fine”, Kuroo broke the silence then and straightened his back, taking the empty water bottle.

“Just try to sleep a bit. You'll need it tomorrow.”  
  
In his voice, there was sincerity and as much as Kenma was flustered he managed to reply with a short: “Good night.”  
  
Closing the door behind him, Kuroo lingered in the hallway, noticing the change in the air around him. The sweet as honey scent stuck to the palm that had touched the small cats face – it was so soft and warm. So warm, he might have thought it still was the illness clinging onto him.   
  
But in the dark, he's seen his flushed face and the sudden uneasiness on him. The way he had pulled his blanket up and starred at his face, the eyes shifting not even once. The way his breath hitched, holding it tightly before releasing and exhaling, his hot breath tickling his palm as he retreated the touch.   
Walking towards his bedroom, he brought his hand to his face, almost coyly and yet very intrigued sniffing at it.  
Kuroos brain felt like _melting_ – melting in the most delicious, beautiful way it could. Forgetting the world around one, all senses numbed, only focusing on the one thing that brought him the most pleasure.  
  
In the mountain he had smelled the same and as Oikawa, Akaashi and Iwaizumi came to pick them up, Kozume had clung to Kuroo, rubbing his scent even more on him. No matter how he put it, though all divine lovers had their distinguished smell, Kenma differed from the rest.   
  
The black cat stretched his tall, slender body and his tensed muscled relaxed as he finally allowed himself fall into bed.   
Alone in his room, his clouded mind drifted off into a land far, far away.   
Taking him into the the deepest and darkest depths of his unconscious, all he could see was two golden orbs in the dark, like the sun and his twin brother, guiding him through the endless night. And the air smelled sickly sweet, sticking onto his skin like delicious, yellow honey.

  
  


They have been driving for four hours now.  
Iwaizumi and Oikawa had settled on taking turns on driving, even though Iwaizumi seemed to enjoy it a lot.   
For him, driving was some sort of therapeutic way to ease his nerves.  
  
If it wasn't for the current situation they were in, he'd probably would be more talkative.  
His head against the window, Oikawa watched the ever so changing scenery, the distance between them and their former base increasing with every second that passed.   
Normally, he didn't hold any deeper feelings to just some walls and a roof on top of them – but too much had happened in a short time that bounded Oikawa to the house and somehow, the feeling in his chest was heavy and resembled a tight knot he had a hard time untying.   
  
The sun lazily hung on the sky, milky white clouds dimming the rays and even though it was still morning, it could've been evening as well.   
_He really decided to come with us_ , it passed Oikawa thoughts – thoughts that were directed as his lover behind the wheel.  
  
Iwaizumi briefly looked at the resting cat through the rear view mirror. The closed eyes gave a beautiful, clear view on the scar that cut through his face.

Then, Hajimes eyes flew to Tooru.  
With his mouth nibbling at the tip of his index finger, the deep brown eyes focused on something else his boyfriend could not put a name on. Needless to say, he was thinking, deeply thinking, and it felt to him as if he'd try to untangle the chaos the last weeks had created in his head.   
  
_Let's see what he wants to do when we arrive at our first stop. He doesn't seem to be the type to stick around_ , Iwa-chan replied.   
_Akaashi is concerned about him. That's why he was on patrol with him the past couple days. He didn't say it but I can read his face. Since Kuroo arrived his mask began to_ -  
 _Crumble_ , Iwaizumi finished Oikawas statement and his grip around the wheel tightened.  
  
 _Akaashi seems kind of scattered lately. Who knows what's going on in his mind. He's probably just stressed._  
Oikawa shrugged his shoulders, before answering: _Or maybe he just needs a good fuck_.  
  
Iwaizumi bit his lip. He wanted to smack Oikawa over the head for the disrespectful comment, but since everyone behind them was asleep (more or less – he was sure Akaashi was just 'resting his eyes' again), he didn't want to wake them.  
  
 _You are such a shitty guy, honestly_ , Iwaizumi threw at him.   
  
_What? I meant it like I said it! When I'm stressed out my sex drive goes up as well_.  
 _No shit, as if I wouldn't know_ , was Iwaizumis quick reply and even though Oikawa wasn't looking he felt Iwa-chan rolling his eyes in annoyance _._  
Taking a turn to the right, the car followed the narrow, curvy street of a mountain passage and Iwaizumi had to remind himself not to lose his cool over unnecessary bickering with Oikawa, but to actually focus on his driving.   
  
_Listen, I can feel what you feel too. And I can understand you. But blaming Kuroo as our personal bad luck charm for everything that happened recently won't get us far either._   
He changed into third gear, carefully driving those serpentines. Even though the wastelands weren't densely populated, meeting someone else on the road wasn't unlikely.   
_Sometimes things just happen_ , he continued then. _Daily fuck ups that some god or the world decides to lay on our path. So what? I want to give him the benefit of the doubt! And even if they cut him open and tested on his brains, he's our friend and he's back. So far he was a good guy, I believe he truly just lost his memory. Probably escaped from the laboratories and hit his head on a big rock. You know he's a giant dork sometimes!  
_  
Oikawas eyes had tenderly laid on his lover, admiring his profile and the sharp jawline of his as he listened to his words. He then contained himself to not let his lips form a smile, even though he wanted to.   
“You're really a giant softie, Iwa-chan”, Oikawa said out loud and Iwaizumi rolled his eyes as a response.   
Maybe it wasn't obvious for others, but Tooru knew it was meant in a loving way. This type of eye roll was only used when he was too embarrassed to answer or simply didn't want to tell Oikawa he was right.  
  
Shifting around in the passenger seat, Oikawa bend his neck a bit and switched into a more comfortable position, allowing himself to sink more into the soft leather.   
“Fine, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt then. But only this once. Until we don't have all the answers yet. Maybe I'm just panicking too much again.”  
Even though his unbothered voice and the careless expression on his face was meant to tease Hajime, Oikawa took his words seriously and maybe, just maybe, his intuition was a bit misguided now.   
Iwaizumi seemed pleased and just wanted to thank him for being so cooperative this time, when Oikawa rose from his seat, his face _pale_.   
  
“ _Iwa-chan_ _ **stop**_!”  
  
Toorus shout was followed by the high pitched squeal of the brakes as Iwaizumis foot _stomped_ onto the pedal.  
With an abrupt motion the car stayed still and if it wasn't for Akaashis quick reflexes, grabbing Kenma by his collar, the small cat would have hit his nose _hard_ on the back of the passengers seat.  
  
A pair of widened eyes starred from behind the steering-wheel, fixed on giant gap in the street. Like the mouth of a monster in the dark, the giant hole was made for some unknowing, innocent by-passers that wouldn't notice the trap soon enough and with one bite were swallowed whole.  
  
The bridge they were just about to pass, bringing them closer to their desired destination, was collapsed in the middle. Hajimes heart was pounding so hard in his chest, he thought it might break his rib cage.   
  
They were lucky that he had reacted quickly enough; with all the snow on the streets making it slippery the braking distance was longer than usual.   
If it had just been a second too late they would have..  
  
“What happened to the bridge?”, Akaashi spoke, his voice trembling though he was trying to get a grip on himself. “  
“That hasn't been here before..”, Oikawa mumbled his brows twitching as he tried to sort his mind, checking if there have been any mentions about an accident or even an attack nearby. Immediately he twirled around in his seat and scanned the area behind them, looking if there might have been someone following them.   
  
This opportunity would have been a great trap and the mere thought of it made his hands tremble.  
  
“I don't think we're being watched”, Kuroo mumbled, his sharp, hazel eyes attentively gazing over the massive body of the mountain. “There's not enough room to hide, only withering wood here and there.”  
While Iwaizumi was slowly and ever so carefully turning the car around, backing away from their near death experience, Akaashis mind worked on high engines again. With his gaze fixed on the other side of the gateway, he formed his eyes into two slits. “Oikawa, you said this hasn't been here before, so this must be fairly new. The road is relatively often used.”  
  
“This is the fastest way to take.”   
  
Kenmas voice cut through the tensed atmosphere like a hot knife.   
  
“The detour we have to make now will cost us probably two or three hours, with all the snow covering the secondary roads. If we're unlucky we'll even get stuck or have to travel by foot. The real problem will be the sunlight. The sun sets at five, with the sky being all cloudy it'll start getting dark even earlier. This could be intentional, with the ultimate goal being to sneak up on us at night. It would fit into the recent days happenings.”  
Everyone was quiet.   
Iwaizumi had already drove back the way they came from and Akaashi pressed his lips together, knowing, that Kozumes assumptions sounded logical and very plausible as ever.  
  
“Sounds about right”, Oikawa said bluntly and his facial expression didn't match his cheerful voice at all. His eyes were like the surface of a pond: still from above, dark and murky the deeper you fell into it.   
  
“How lucky we are to have people waiting for us.” And with that he brought his wristwatch closer to his mouth, trying to reach Makki and Mattsun, as Iwaizumi headed for the long road through the valleys.

  
Naturally, none of them, Yahaba included, had heard anything of a bridge collapsing or being bombed since the attack on their base a few days ago. They had sought shelter in a town nearby, waiting for any new information before going back to rebuild their base inside the barracks.   
As Iwaizumi drove, Akaashi had noticed how his right hand left its position as a tight grip around the steering-wheel only a for a minute, to intertwine with Oikawa long, slender fingers.   
  
The owl squinted his eyes, knowing very well that something has been going on between those two for the past couple days. Akaashi wouldn't go as far as saying they kept a secret from them, but maybe one spilled sentence lead to another and now they shared at least one or two concerns the rest didn't know about.   
  
No, Keiji knew nothing about Oikawas growing fear of Kuroo and the possible disaster he brought upon them.   
Keiji also didn't know about the bittersweet thought that passed Oikawas mind. He kept it to himself, he was sure that Iwaizumi probably thought the same as him, though he didn't want to test him.   
  
_Bad omen_ , it whispered from deep within.  
  
 _Bad, bad omen_.  
  
And from behind the darkness that Kuroos soul was, pulsated vividly, breathing cold air into Oikawas neck.

  
  


  
  


  
  


“Good God! You almost had us give up this fine dining table to get up and search for your leftovers in the woods”, Mattsukawa spoke and each word was dripping with irony.   
“That's not funny, something serious could have happened!”, Yahaba exclaimed, his cheeks flushed from the ethanol. Emptying his third bottle of beer, he placed it back down on the tables counter with a heavy _clack_.   
  
The local was a small bar – a family business and in the small town probably the only hot spot that would offer a proper meal even late at night. Music blasted over the old speakers in the corners of the ceiling – crackling and fizzling, distorting the tones of the instruments from time to time - yet Iwaizumi recognized the song as Steppenwolf's _Magic Carpet Ride_ and he somehow appreciated the lightheaded, old but charming atmosphere of the bar.  
  
As everyone settled around the way too small dinner table, with Kenma being almost squished between Iwaizumis and Kuroos shoulder as an result, they ordered some sandwiches, stew and roasted chicken, with Iwaizumi, Oikawa and Kuroo following their friends and ordering a beer as well.  
  
Iwaizumi thought of himself as a simple man: if he was stressed out it resulted into hunger and sleep. Sometimes even a drink, if he thought he _really_ deserved one and sometimes it was sex; but that part was usually occupied by Tooru.   
  
“So, no strange accouters, no attacks. Nothing weird happened, despite the collapsed bridge?”, asked Makki and tilted his head as he waited for an answer.   
Their drinks were served and Iwaizumi noticed that both Akaashi and Kenma had settled for soft drinks with Kenma retreating back into his shell, the glass held tightly in his hands, nibbling at the straw while his eyes were fixed on his lap.  
Surely this was his way of relaxing and listening to the conversation, though Hajime knew that the cat would probably prefer to be somewhere else. Somewhere with less human interaction.   
  
“Despite our worries nothing happened, even though we had to take the long way around we managed to come here quickly without any incidents. That being said, I'll ask around if any of the townspeople might know something about it.”   
  
Slightly turning his head around his deep green orbs wandered to the Bartender – a middle aged man with no particular outstanding facial features except for his upper lip mustache maybe.   
  
“Good idea. The owners are friendly and open minded, they'll probably spill any kind of information”, Yahaba mentioned and Iwaizumi noticed how his eyes darted hopefully to the opening kitchen door, but were just as soon filled with disappointment as the server came back empty handed. After all, they had waited for them to arrive, so they could eat together.  
  
“Mhm, I think I'm up for a little gossip with the bartender, too”, Oikawa said, picking at the label of his beer bottle, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “Maybe..”, he started and with an innocent face he shifted his eyes over to his boyfriend next to him.  
“Maybe I'm even up for a little flirt?”  
Iwaizumis indifferent reaction, only his muffled snort at the beginning, showed Oikawa that he got the joke – it was nothing more than teasing after all – but that he was clearly too tired to put up with his behavior this night. Iwa-chan crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, a confident, almost cocky smile adorned his beautiful face.  
  
“Yeah? Go ahead. I want to see you get banned from this place so bad. Just don't drag me with you.” Makki and Mattsun laughed, surprised by Iwaizumis rather untypical, collected response while Oikawa threw his head head back and groaned: “Lame Iwa-chan, you're supposed to say: No! Don't go around flirting with others! I don't want you to be stolen by anyone else!”  
  
“Oh _please_ , as if I would complain when you get stolen!”, Iwa-chan replied.  
  
“That's basically free vacation Oikawa, and you know how desperate Iwaizumi is for one”, Mattsun joined in, not letting the opportunity pass to let one or two sneaky remarks slip. “Fine!”, Tooru exclaimed and threw his hands up, surrendering. “I give up, I dug my own grave with this. Friends my ass! At least try to convince him that he should take me with him.”  
  
“The point of a vocation is to rest, not to stress.”   
  
Mattsun and Makki pressed their lips together in response to Kenmas interjection. Even though they felt like laughing there was a biting undertone to his words that was meant to cut deep.   
Oikawa didn't lose his smile but he squinted his eyes and it must have provoked a flame deep inside of him which mirrored itself in the way his eyes were gleaming now.  
  
“Feisty little kitty cat”, he chuckled, certainly unimpressed as his melting brown eyes fixed on Kenmas yellow pools. Throwing a quick glance to his lover, Iwaizumi could almost hear Oikawa cursing _God, this guy can be so awfully petty_.   
  
Then, as if someone flicked a switch, Oikawa shrugged his shoulders before he got up and announced that he'd try his luck winning a free vacation for Iwa-chan. “You're coming?” His words were directed towards Akaashi, who seemed to be caught off guard, blinking his last train of thought away.   
  
As they walked over to the bar counter, Iwaizumi, Yahaba, Makki and Mattsun fell back into a lighthearted conversation, filled with much laughter and wild stories that mostly evolved around their time back then in the academy.   
  
“You're good?”  
  
Kuroos soft voice next to Kenma made him jump a little. He had been quiet the whole time, observing the conversation just as the small cat did. If it weren't for his strong presence, Kenma would have forgotten about him.   
  
“It's fine”, Kenma responded, his eyes not moving away from the laughing faces in front of him. “Okay. It's just- you seemed a bit..stressed there.” The last words were spoken with some sort of discretion.  
“Stressed?”, Kenma repeated, and the two golden orbs sitting next to the bridge of his nose moved gingerly towards Kuroos face.  
  
“It was just a feeling”, it passed the black cats lips and in the dim light of the bar, Kuroos hazel iris partly mirrored his own insecurity about the statement – in a way he strangely felt like a little bird at its first attempt to fly. Taking of and immediately falling, knowing, that the pain of trying and trying again wouldn't be spared for him.   
  
Caught inside the bubble that surrounded them, completely wrapped up in this strange, intimate moment they shared, Kenma didn't notice Mattsukawa calling out for Kuroo.   
It was Tetsurou who turned his attention back to the others, a casual smile on his lips again, shoulders leaned back, his head cockily tilted to the side, which gave him a sly, yet very intruding appearance.   
  
“Iwaizumi just told us how you managed to get you two out of the underground systems!” With the bottleneck he pointed towards Kenma in passing. Mattsuns usual cool and collected expression had changed by now and beamed with some sort of excitement – maybe it was due to him being under the influence, maybe it was just a side of his persona only a few were acquainted with.   
  
“You gotta tell us how you did it that man! What are you, some sort of super human being?”   
Makki sighed, patting his boyfriend on the shoulder, an apologizing look on his face as he slowly pulled Mattsun back to his seat, the other not even noticing, that he had leaned in closer, impatiently waiting for an answer.   
  
“I guess that's what adrenaline does to you”, the rooster head answered and chuckled and much to Makkis worries obviously enjoying the change of demeanor.   
“So you say, but are you sure you weren't born with two Y chromosomes? Would explain your inhuman metabolism”, Iwaizumi joined in, bringing up Kuroos fast healing process.   
  
“You guys are rude to imply he has some sort of birth defect”, Yahaba spoke, breaking his silence after taking in the conversation as a mere listener. Mattsukawa snorted, turning his attention to his friend to the left. With a playful, scolding tone, he threw his words right back at him: “Psh, no, _that_ was rude. Who says it's a bad thing? In Kuroos case it's a blessing! All a matter of perspective little Shigeru.”   
  
And with those words, a mutual groan escaped from Makkis and Yahabas lips, battling against the contrast that Iwaizumis loud laugh at the other end of the table created.   
  
“So we reached that point already? No, no Makki, give him some more to drink - it's only getting better from this point on!”, Iwaizumi encouraged, his big, strong hands now innocently wiped a little tear from his eye.   
  
As the chaos among them took its natural course, Makkis complaining that he ' _wouldn't take this big baby home_ _again on its own_ ', then deciding to get as equally drunk, Kenmas thoughts drove all sorts of routs and curved in his mind, creating a messy, tangled line too hard to unwind.   
While he tried to ignore the noises around him, he came back to the one sentence echoing inside of him, haunting his conscious as his memories showed him all the times Kuroos strange behavior left him wondering.   
  
Thinking about it now, Kuroo had extremely fast reflexes – that he had noticed during the attack at the barracks. Kenma was almost so far to call it _similar_ to the movements of the soldiers that had hunted them.   
But then again, this could be a coincidence – a good training would make most with the right physical preconditions an excellent soldier.   
  
But then there was his eyesight, an attribute that was even animal, not human. And he did recover fast, so fast, Oikawa had told him, that he didn't even rest a full day after they have picked them up from their odyssey in the tunnel system.  
  
It was something that made Kenmas inner being crawl, like bugs that ran up his spine and nestled in between his ears.   
At the same time as he felt this strong adoration – this unbearable longing – towards him, there was also a tiny, yet dangerously venomous amount of fear.  
  
It was not due to the fact that they didn't know what happened before Kuroo had lost his memories, nor the fact that his body functioned differently than the one of a normal human being.   
  
It was more or less something about him, just his presence alone that could make Kenma shiver as much as he made him tremble with desire at times.   
They said, the smaller the animal is, the more dangerous its poison becomes.   
  
And among those bugs crawling up and down Kenmas spine, there was a scorpion; only as thick and wide as his thumb, calm and collected it sat between one of his vertebras.  
Waiting to be disturbed, to be triggered by the smallest incident to pull back its tail, to sting and inject its venom into Kenmas system - to fill his body and heart with doubt.   
  
  
  
  


  
  


The bartender was a nice, charismatic man who – contrary to the charm of a small town – seemed to add a very open minded and sophisticated atmosphere to the conversation.

While Oikawa and Akaashi had not found out about any happening towards or around the mountains passage and the collapsed bridge, they were enjoying the anecdotes and stories on the side.   
  
“You can call yourself lucky that it didn't start snowing. Even when we're ending the roughest period of winter we always have to be up for a surprise.”  
  
Oikawa sighed, his brown locks falling into his face before he blew them away.   
  
“I'm done with winter. I want a vocation already.”  
  
The man chuckled as he poured him another one, filling his glass with the golden-brown liquid the Whiskey was. Oikawa sipped slowly, enjoying the strong taste it left on his tongue. Herb and bitter, with a fine, woody, almost smokey note to it.  
  
“Want a taste? It's pretty good?”, Oikawa asked, holding his glass towards his friend. Akaashi denied, holding up his hand. Out of good manners he had already ordered a beer, to him it seemed like no one needed to sit at the bar for a mere coke.   
  
In that moment the entry door opened and followed by a strong gust of wind, a tall man with blonde, spiky hair and an undercut emerged. Oikawa was still deeply engaged in keeping up a conversation with the bartender, but Akaashis quick eyes glanced over to the tall figure.   
He wore a bulky, brown leather jacket, a black scarf covered half his face, but the boots he wore seemed wet and very well used.  
He sat down next to Oikawa, leaving one bar stool between them to keep his distance though.  
  
“I just hope the destroyed road doesn't keep the food transporters from getting into our city. Since this civil war started no one can be sure if they make it to next month or not. Shops are closing, people move into the bigger cities in the south for a better life only to find bad paid jobs and poverty. Or even worse, they live in camps in front of capitols walls, waiting for them to finally open these goddamn doors.”   
He sighed and poured himself a glass of whiskey, the wrinkles around his worrying eyes and on his forehead empathizing his age.   
  
“But you still managed to open your doors everyday till now”, Oikawa exclaimed, wearing his ever so gently, warm expression. He lifted his glass. “I say, to that we drink!”   
A faint laugh escaped the bartenders lips, before he gently bumped his glass on Oikawas.   
  
The man to their left had watched the whole conversation, his eyes scheming over to Oikawas profile before asserting them back to the small TV screen on the top left corner of the room. He had a sharp face, each of his features adding a touch of edginess to his appearance – his eyes were almond colored, vividly pulsating with energy and even his smallest movements were bursting with vitality.   
  
Almost apologizing did the owner direct his attention to him, already pulling out a cold bottle of beer from the fridge. “Ah, Terushima, the same as usual, right?”  
The man called Terushima only grinned. A wide, friendly, yet _wild_ grin.  
  
“Yeah, the same as usual please.”  
  
Akaashi found it hard to guess his age. He could be younger as them, at least that's what his aura gave off. But despite his fit physique, his tall and muscular figure didn't hide the bags under his eyes or the dry, red and crusty hands. He must work a lot outside, that Akaashi was sure of.   
  
Terushimas eyes were now fully on Oikawa and Keiji, jumping up and down, scanning their clothes, the way they sat, their expressions, what type of men they were.   
The last question he answered himself by their choices of drinks – even though he thought that the second of the pair didn't look like a beer drinker.   
  
“You're not from here, or do I know you?”  
  
Oikawa smiled – it was different than the genuine one he had given the bar owner just now. This one was one purely for strangers; it was nothing more than mere presentation and self-aggrandizement.   
  
“Oh no, we're not from here, just visiting our friends. Here”, Oikawa pointed behind him. “The loud gorilla gang behind us.”  
Terushima laughed, showing a wide, toothy grin.   
“They seem like fun.”  
“But also very loud”, Akaashi bluntly added on and took a sip from his drink. The blonde haired male leaned forward, resting his upper body on the bar counter to get a better look at the green eyed owl.   
  
“Mhm, but loud can be fun too. I'm Terushima Yuuji by the way. Nice to meet you.”  
  
“Oikawa Tooru. And the pretty guy to my right is Akaashi Keiji”, Oikawa exclaimed, his smile bright as ever. Keiji gave the blonde male an acknowledging nod – he just hoped Oikawa didn't try to hook him up with anyone.   
Again.  
  
“Well, if you're not from here where are you from?”, Terushima asked, and his obvious curious nature gave him an almost childlike look. His almond eyes grew bigger, reflecting the dim, yellow lights from the top, his mouth was still in a light curve.   
  
“Ah, we're from Miyagi, close to Sendai. But since the rebels and military are at war we decided to leave as early as we could. Now we're kind of..” Purposefully, Tooru left a short pause, for his friend to join in. “Day laborers. We are mostly self-sufficient, but when it's needed we ask for work.”  
 _God Oikawa, I hope you just don't start telling any of your funny stories again_ , it crossed Keijis mind.   
  
They were used to lying and occasionally it was even fun for him to pull some white lies or crazy background stories out of his fingers, deconstructing and recreating their identities. Usually he had a good time watching Oikawa and Iwaizumi coming up with their new life stories and strangely enough, Iwaizumi was very good at this as well - even though he usually was a very, _very_ bad liar and hated doing so as well.   
  
Oikawa and Akaashi was a fairly new duo. For Tooru it was like an experiment: fun and exciting to see how their team dynamic would play out and how well they'd harmonize.   
For Akaashi it sadly was just another annoyance that added to his headache today.   
  
He knew, if the situation was different he probably would have fun as well.  
  
“So you're always on the go, huh? The circumstances are shit, but hey, at least you're coming by, right?” Despite his crooked smile, Yuujis eyes showed sentiment. Both of them, Akaashi and Oikawa, figured that he must relate somehow.   
  
“How about you? What are you doing to survive?”   
  
Suddenly, something about the air surrounding Terushima changed. The wildness that has just given him that youthful, energetic look twisted into something more brutal, something very existential. He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes avoiding the two pairs in front of him for a split second.  
  
 _He's nervous_ , Oikawa thought and with a sigh, he put his glass back on the counter and rested his head in his hand, his fingertips disappearing in his brown locks.   
  
“Don't worry. You don't have to tell if it's too personal. We're strangers after all.”  
  
“Ah, don't worry, it's just- I recently lost my job.”  
  
“Great. Putting your stinky feet right in his mouth, oh great king of social skills”, Akaashi commented in passing, his eyes searching for the bartender to order a second round for everybody. “So sorry, really”, Oikawa laughed and the sweet smile of his might have actually excused him of any mistakes.  
  
“Don't worry about it, it was to be expected. By the way, didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you mentioned something about an accident on a bridge earlier on? Was it an attack?”  
There was the childlike curiosity again and to Keiji it seemed that if Terushima was a cat, he'd magically outlive all of his nine lives and would be granted by another two.   
It was Oikawa who decided to answer first.   
  
“Not an attack but a bridge we actually should have passed just collapsed. We were lucky to have noticed soon enough. It's in the middle of a curvy and narrow mountain road, people who are careless and don't stop fast enough might fall to their deaths, especially with the icey roads.”  
  
The brown pools in Terushimas face gleamed as if he'd heard some kind of magic story, unbelievable shocking and terrifyingly exciting. “Really?!” He leaned in even more, closing the distance between him and Oikawa up to the point, that Tooru could smell his cologne.   
  
“That's sick! Not even putting up a shield to warn others!”  
  
And while Yuuji laughed to his fullest, both Oikawa and Akaashi found themselves in confusion, one deciding to respond by starring in indifference, while the other joined in, though Oikawas laugh wasn't as authentic as he wished to be. “So sorry”, Yuuji began, “it's a bad habit you know, making jokes about everything.”  
  
“Humor is just another form of a coping mechanism”, Akaashi replied and Oikawa suppressed a snort at his dry remark.   
  
As soon as Terushima seemed to regain his composure, he sat up straight and his eyes fixated on the two men in front of him.   
The conversation went on for a while, filled with occasional laughter and many more of Oikawas and Akaashis white lies and twisted half truths they fed the man in front of them.   
By their third round, Akaashi found himself quiet amused as the night progressed and in the end he was finding himself relaxing, forgetting about the worries of the past days, allowing himself to let go and just be present.  
  
“You know what? I like you two. And your friends over there seem like cool guys as well”, Terushima announced, the hazy, heated brown his eyes were giving his already drunken state away.   
“I feel sorry for you, I really do. Forced to live on the streets like some dogs, your home being robbed from you, that's a lot of bullshit of you ask me!”  
  
The drunk Yuuji Terushima held no words back and Akaashi noticed that he might have to be careful around him, tip toeing around his answers in case to not hit a wound point.   
Oikawa shifted on his seat and clicked his tongue, carrying an indifferent expression. “It is what it is. There is nothing we can change about it. Only surrender I guess.”  
  
It was not the sudden question, rather the change in Terushimas demeanor that took them both by surprise.   
  
“What if I tell you, you can?”  
  
And it was in this moment that both men knew that this conversation would take an _ugly_ turn.   
  
Terushima winked both of them closer with his right hand, while checking if any other of the visitors were maybe eavesdropping. Oikawa and Akaashi hesitated but decided to do as he wished.

The bitter, yet sour stench of alcohol clung to Yuuji, and Oikawa had to ignored the biting smell. Then, as the coast was clear, Terushima spoke.  
“The government is secretly hiring people. They ask for volunteers that help them against their fight with the rebels. The payment is good and you are protected by the military. They also provide for stable living conditions, a house, food, a car, you name it!”  
  
None of them knew how to reply. The reaction their body gave them resembled a fever though: hot sweat and cold shivers, feeling like vomiting and wanting to shut the world out.  
  
“Say what?”, Oikawa asked and the smile on his face was of disbelieve, desperately trying not to laugh in Terushimas face.  
  
“It's true. They send their informants to various places, but especially to the crisis zones. I guess it's because people are desperate and don't want to starve. The offer is simple-” And here Terushima stopped for a second, putting the words in his head in the right order before continuing.   
  
“They give you a basic training and instruction and you are ready to join in. Easy as that!”

  
In scenarios like these Akaashi did what he deemed to find best in order to find strength and regain the control of the moment. He played the role he was naturally best in: the constructive analytic.  
“What you say seems plausible, but if it's a secret how do you know about it?”  
  
Terushima seemed to have expected such a reaction and he replied instantly. “What really stays secret? They take a vow to maintain their silence, but nothing stays hidden forever, right? I was informed by a close friend because he knew about my struggles – does anyone know for how long we'll stay save, even here in the North? I don't want to die on the streets if you ask me.”  
“So what you're implying is-”  
  
But Akaashi was cut off by him.  
  
“It's survival of the fittest”, Terushima spoke, loud and clear as day. Like two arrows, Terushimas eyes pin pointed the green owl right on the spot and the harsh truth leaving his lips made Oikawa almost flinch.  
  
“At this point you gotta do what you gotta do if you want to live.”  
  
“But then, what is a life if you keep it behind prison bars? Isn't to live to be free?”   
  
Deep inside Keiji jumped at Toorus words. His eyes were hard and there was hurt, as well as desperation mirroring his viewpoint.  
They were not only at war with Lord Washijou and his inhuman regime, but also at war with the people they wanted to save, the glorious future they all so desperately dreamed about and craved for: if no one believed, there was no hope and thus no reason to fight either.  
  
And Keiji knew how much they wanted to free themselves from these shackles, to leave this bird cage and finally feel the wind blowing through their plumage when they'd soar higher and higher into the endless sky.  
  
The blonde man sighed and emptied his bottle of beer. The way he sat at the bar, all wonky, his head hanging carelessly on his shoulders, made him look like puppet, unattached to its strings.  
  
“The world turns to shit and people don't know where to go and what to do. Everyone's confused. Everyone's disappointed, afraid, hopeless and angry. I hate to admit it, but maybe it's just the fear that makes us quiver and give in so easily.”  
  
They bit their tongue. If people here seemed to be split and not fully support the rebels cause it was better to not discuss the topic any further. There was only one question that left both wondering and Oikawa seemed to be first to act on the impulse: “I have one question left though. What is your job as an underground servant for the government? You get protected by the military and get a basic training, am I correct?”  
  
Yuuji nodded.   
A very tired, drunk nod.  
  
“I don't know. I wasn't told _everything_ , you know? It's Lord Washijou we're talking about – no one wants to truly mess with the state, I guess. I just know they get prepared to assist in some sort of _hunt_. At least that's what my friend implied.”  
  
The fever both had experienced suddenly felt like a disease.  
  
“Hunt?”, Akaashi repeated carefully. His mouth went dry. “Yeah, gross, right? I don't know who they search for, probably just want to track rebels nests and kill the young Ukai. Bringing it all to an end.”  
  
“And end..”, Oikawa breathed and the words lingered on his tongue. He formed them in his mouth, again and again, but no matter how much he tried to get used to it, they left a bitter taste.

And end included a life with no misery for him. An end was not sleepless nights, starring at the ceiling, listening to Iwaizumis soft breathing in the dark; a gentle, yet painful reminder of their own mortality and the thought of how easily their existence could be erased made Oikawa cry at times.   
Silently he would lie awake and let the tears run, his fingers reaching for his lovers hand under the sheets.   
  
And he would hold it.  
  
Hold it till he'd fall asleep and wake up in the morning, limbs tangled in another, torsos pressed together, lips grazing each others skin.  
  
Tooru hoped, when the world ended it would be quiet and sudden – and it was morning, soft light flooding the bedroom and the last thing he'd see were Hajimes gentle eyes.  
But now the world was not ending: the world was breathing, living, pushing though the disease those intruders called human have brought upon her.   
  
Oikawa tried to process the information as quickly as possible.  
A hunt was exclusively the search for divine lovers. Nothing else was ever called 'hunting' in the military's terminology, furthermore, 'hunting' was a secret kept from society.   
In the public eye divine lovers were praised and highly appreciated by the government. At least those that were of high social status and privilege.   
  
But people of the poor sector; those in the 'flea market', those who lived without any perspective were carrion for the hungry vultures.   
And vultures were oh so clever animals.  
  
Come to think of it now, maybe the collapsed bridge was indeed not a coincidence: what if it was just another way of leading prey into ones trap? And didn't the bartender mention anything about the possibility of their food transporters being cut off? It was very in character for Washijou to make the people helpless by purpose. The ones who are weak and without perspective will do anything to survive.  
  
Much like Terushima who would support Lord Washijou to not die.  
Oikawa suppressed a laugh.   
  
Death really was the strongest and most effective threat. No matter what, whenever one was standing face to face with Father Death all they'd try would be to outrun the swing of his sickle.   
  
“I have one question.”  
  
Akaashis collected words, and the cool, crisp tone of his voice brought his friend back to reality.  
  
“Why are you telling us all this? If it's a secret and supposedly well kept from the public, why tell some strangers you just met in a bar?”  
  
A crooked smile was placed on Terushimas lips and almost painfully did he return the green eyed owls demanding look. As struck by an unpleasant memory, he held his gaze only as long as it was needed.  
  
“Because I've met people like you before.

And I've seen misery. Real devastation. No matter how much you laugh, I can tell your struggle. And I guess, I just don't want to you to go down without having the opportunity to twist fate around.”  
  
Silence laid upon the three men and strangely enough the sound of the music played from the speakers and the lighthearted laughter from the back of the bar only enhanced the feeling of loneliness that formed in their chests.   
  
As they left this night, some drunk, some tipsy, but all except for Keiji and Tooru joyous from head to toe, Terushima still sat were they had left him on the bar counter.   
All alone in his misery and yet his soul had been shining brightly the whole time as he has spoken nothing less than the truth.

  
  


  
  


There was only one guest house that offered travelers and tourists (if there ever have been any at all) a safe rest for the night.   
  
Iwaizumi was surprised it was able to keep its doors open for that long. In these times the thought of vacation was a past dream, a dead wish that had been reality once – except for the rich living in the capitol, of course. Walking through the empty streets, passed old houses with pitch black windows, lonely shops that had been abandoned and the ever so seeing eyes of the mountains that shielded the town from any harm outside, Iwaizumi tried to imagine color, people, sounds, any sort of _life_ , filling the depressing state of this city.   
  
But maybe it was just the night taking its toll on him.  
Everything always felt a bit worse when the sun had settled.   
  
Mattsukawa leaned against Makki, and the black haired male chanted an old song from his childhood, the sound of his voice bounced off of the walls and traveled through the side streets.   
Iwaizumi snorted.  
Among this ghost city, he was a ball of yellow happiness in a crying, gray cloud.  
  
“ _Shh_ , Mattsun! You're gonna wake everyone up!”, Yahaba scolded his friend and he had a rough time walking straight, without tripping over nothing, or even worse: his own feet.  
Mattsun laughed and gently ruffled Yahabas light brown hair, leaving it wild and messy. Instantly, Shigeru raised his hands, a poor attempt to repel his attack.   
  
Makki only grinned, he had tried drinking against his boyfriend and miserably failed, this time though, he didn't mind being the sober one.  
  
“You know Shigeru, I have known you from the beginning”, Mattsukawa began and there was some pride swinging with his words.   
  
“When you were only _thaaat_ little!” His hands formed a small, ball like shape and this time even Kenma couldn't hold back a chuckle.   
  
“Are you implying you're his father? Do I have to worry about any past escapades?”, Makki joked and pulled his boyfriend closer, before kissing the top of his head.  
  
Makki and Mattsun had the beautiful gift of always making the best of any situation and even in the most difficult times their laughter brightened the room.   
They were effortlessly easy going and made the world run in their pace.   
  
But their world was not Iwaizumis and he turned to his right to get a better glimpse as Oikawa who has been weirdly quiet since they left the bar.  
  
“What's wrong?”, he asked and the words may have reached his partner, but Oikawa seemed far too busy with his own thoughts to react to them.   
“Oikawa!”, he repeated, but the mellow brown of his eyes was still fixed on his friend in front of them.   
  
Hajime rolled his eyes – it seems that once again, he was forced to use a brasher, more effective method to get through his boyfriend thick skull.  
“Hey, what was that for!?” Rubbing the spot on his shoulder that has just been hit, he puckered his lips, glancing at Iwaizumi in offense.   
  
“Don't act all stupid now, did you hear me or not?”  
  
Tooru seemed honestly surprised by that and for a moment his eyes dodged Hajimes, before he unpacked his smile again, hoping to sooth his suspicious boyfriend. “Sorry, guess it was just a lot today.”  
  
“Mhm”, was all he gave as a response and he crossed his arms, very displeased as he felt the uneasiness creep up in Oikawas limbs. Did he really thought he was _that_ stupid?   
  
“What exactly did the owner tell you?”  
  
“Nothing special, really. He was rather worried about their resources not arriving, because of the destroyed bridge. And there was a drunk man from the town lending his company. Pretty funny, but not really informative, even though he-”  
  
Suddenly Hajime stopped mid walking and the sudden wave of anger hit Oikawa ten times harder than any punch in his shoulder ever could.   
  
Directing his eyes back to his lover, he flinched as the mere disappointment that gleamed in the embers Iwaizumis eyes were. “Iwa-chan, what's wro-”  
  
“Quit talking bullshit already. How dare you lie to my face. _Again_.”   
  
The worst part was, he didn't want to. He wanted to tell him, he knew he had fucked up many times before while trying to fix things on his own, sort things out and try to make sense out of the mess their lives were recently – no, Toorus life has been a mess from the very beginning.   
But Iwaizumi was never part of that pile of chaos, and never would be.  
  
“Iwa-chan-”  
  
“I said I'm done with you, I don't want to see your face for the rest of this night.”  
  
Trying to walk past him, he didn't even look at Oikawa, but before the situation would fully get out of control, Tooru reached out for his hand, holding it so tightly, as if something would threaten to separate them by force.   
  
“No”, Oikawa breathed and his eyes were glassy. “I tell you. I just can't. Not in front of everyone.”  
  
He was weak – again and again the softness of his eyes made Iwaizumi weak. The honesty reflecting his feelings almost brought him to clench his chest.   
“Fine”, he replied with gritted teeth and Oikawa finally let go of the breath he had held in for so long.   
  
Catching up with the rest of the group, Iwaizumi informed Akaashi about the two of them staying out for a bit longer. He excused himself for drinking too much and that he needed the nights fresh air before going to bed in order to avoid a hangover.   
Keiji nodded in understanding, offered to carry their backs to the guest house for them and told them to take care.   
He knew he and Oikawa have decided to inform the rest about the bad news tomorrow, but there was little to no room when it came to keeping secrets from your divine partner.   
  
Oikawa and Iwaizumi had strayed off, finding themselves in a side street behind a closed convenience store.  
  
“Would you finally explain yourself?” Even though Hajimes tone was demanding, his patience wearing dangerously thin, eaten alive by the anger blazing in his chest, Oikawa only gently pressed his forehead against his, and let his mind speak.  
  
While his silent words created a short movie in Hajimes mind, Tooru pressed tighter and tighter against his boyfriend, capturing him between the cold wall and as he was finished telling his story, he found his face hidden in the hollow of his neck.

In the stillness of this cold winter night, Iwaizumi finally understood the dread his love has felt and his chest twisted in pain.  
  
They have been lucky enough to be able to get away from Washijous men, but for how long? They still had to make it to Morisuke and Haiba, they still waited for a sign to transfer back to Miyagi, still wanted answers for Kuroo magically reappearing, still wanted to crush this regime underneath their foot and to see this country bloom in all its colors.  
  
“I get it- I-”  
  
But he decided to keep quiet. Wrapping his arms around Oikawas broad back, he breathed in the smell of apple shampoo still lingering in his hair and closed his eyes.  
  
 _The noose seems to tighten for us_ , Oikawas words echoed in Iwaizumis mind and his hands dug deeper in the soft leather of his boyfriends jacket.   
  
“Don't say that so carelessly”, it escaped Iwaizumis lips, more heated than he wanted to.  
  
“I'm trying to connect the lines, Iwa-chan. But the image still doesn't make any sense”, Oikawa responded with his face still pressed against Iwaizumis neck, his hot breath tickled his skin, leaving it warm in the dry cold.   
  
“Oikawa, don't you dare-”  
  
“I wouldn't dare!” Now, the heated brown of Oikawas eyes were pulsating, lifting his head and facing Iwaizumi again, he didn't want him to imply that he ever would give up, lose hope, or regret every step they have taken so far.  
  
“I would never”, Oikawa whispered, swallowing the piece of frustration that was stuck in his throat.   
  
“I would never go back on my words and on my actions. I would never betray the rest of us.”  
  
With the tip of their noses almost touching another, Iwaizumi felt a strange pull between the urge to push him away and to get him even closer. It was a situation that called for _reason_ , but right now the heated mind of Oikawa and Iwaizumis own mixed feelings created tug-of-war in his heart.  
  
“But that's the truth Iwa-chan. We have to look at the situation realistically.”  
  
Grabbing him by the collar, Hajimes favorite emotion sat in, the state of mind he always escaped into when he didn't know what to do, what to think or rightfully react: anger. He was fuming with it now.  
  
“Realistically _my_ _ass_! You are doubting yourself, all of us, your friends and the people we set our hopes in! What the hell are you even talking about!?”  
  
The words stung deeply and they were meant to do so, but the composed expression Iwaizumi was greeted with made him swallow his words even faster. It only took a second to defuse the bomb Hajime was.  
  
“What are you talking about? Does it look like we're winning currently? I'm not betraying myself or the rest. I only adjust to the current situation. And you need to do so too.”  
  
It was rare for Iwaizumi Hajime to lower his gaze – ever rarer to not withstand a gaze. But in this moment he found himself defeated. Oikawa was too clever for his own good, so clever that Iwaizumi thought Oikawa was his own catalyst. But maybe it was him this time, that needed a reality check. And the strong grip on Toorus collar softened, before he was finally let go of.   
  
“Iwa-chan”, Oikawa breathed and his hand cupped his lovers cheek, gently bringing his gaze up to his, before kissing him.  
  
“Don't look so sad. Not having won also means we haven't lost yet.” There was a hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth. A fatigue one, but for Oikawa it counted.  
Again, their lips collided, this time though more forceful, more desiring.   
  
“Oikawa..”, Iwaizumi spoke softly, his hands on his boyfriends torso and as he felt his tensed chest through his shirt, he was yet again torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.  
  
“This is the exact reason why I don't want to hold back anymore, Iwa-chan. We're not dying. But I realized if anything happens-”, he stopped mid sentence, his eyes reflecting the pain of all the _what if_ ' _s_ that crossed his mind in that exact moment, “I don't..-”   
  
His breath tickled Iwaizumis lips and Hajime didn't realize how his hands found their way underneath Oikawas shirt, the hot skin on his palms and the form of his muscles he gently traced only enhancing the friction that was building up inside of him.   
  
Oikawa kissed him again and Iwaizumi parted his lips generously now, allowing him to sink deeper, allowing not only the kiss, but also the shared feeling to grow in its intimacy.  
“I don't want to miss. To regret”, it escaped Toorus mouth when they parted.  
  
And it were those words that pushed Iwaizumi over the edge, his and Oikawas feelings merging to the point that it was only one, and deep inside he knew it had always been like this.  
  
Because they were only parted by the universe once, finding themselves in separate bodies, while their souls searched for their counterpart.  
With Oikawas knee between Iwaizumis legs, he lightly pressed against his crotch, but started adding more pressure to the touch as soon as he felt the bulge rising in his pants.   
  
Iwaizumi couldn't deny that he has been driven by some sort of fear; deep inside of him an emotion tried to escape, that pushed him further and further into Oikawas arms. Maybe it was the slow realization that Oikawa was indeed right, and he has been blinded by his arrogance and pride for far too long; maybe it was the desperate wish to turn things around and finally make the unjust brutality of this world disappear.   
  
All around him might break apart, wither away, be washed away by a monstrous wave, only to forever be swallowed by the deep, blue sea: long lost and forgotten, rotting at the bottom of the ocean.  
  
Nothing was meant to stay forever, Hajime knew that, but in this fragile world he found himself in, all that was ever a constant, all that was always his would be his love for Oikawa.  
  
And he lost his hands in those soft, brown locks, opening his mouth obediently to taste him, hungrily entering his tongue, while muffled moans lost themselves in between them. Pulling at the waistband of Iwaizumis pants, Oikawas knee pushed harder against his dick, his fingers finding their way inside of his boxers, before he boldly touched the wet tip of his erection.   
  
Oikawa held his breath in as Iwaizumi boldly thrust into his hand, craving a harder touch, his cock only spilling more of pre-cum.   
  
And he shivered as one clouded gaze met the other.  
  
It has taken Hajime a long time, before he was able to let go completely with Oikawa and allow himself to be on the receiving end.  
  
Oikawa had waited patiently for years, knowing it was just as hard for his boyfriend to let go of control as it was for himself. Not, that Iwaizumi hasn't enjoyed Oikawas touch, nor did he deny it, it was just that he couldn't bring himself to be put in the same position as his partner.  
It seemed way too vulnerable for him and he had apologized for his own inability to let go of his stubbornness as well as envied and praised Oikawa for being so patient with him.  
  
And Tooru treasured those moments; he loved it when Iwaizumis legs would wrap around his waist, tensed muscles rubbing against milk white skin, and his wide chest would rise and sink in anticipation, each motion bringing him closer to the edge.   
  
Right now, Oikawas hand was wrapped around his cock and he pumped hard, while his lips were sucking on the tender flesh of Iwa-chans neck, leaving red marks and wet spots.  
He hummed against his skin, the vibrations of even and soft tones echoing through Iwaizumis body and in the heat of the moment Iwaizumi found his hips rising.  
  
A groan escaped from his mouth and bounced off of the walls that surrounded them, finding its way back to Hajimes ears.   
  
Suddenly, almost disturbed by his own voice, his eyes widened and abruptly he shoved his lover away. His expression was still taken over by his hunger, eyes heated and pleading, the tone of his voice spoke of reason though.  
  
“Let's not do that here. We're still in public.”  
  
The faint blush that appeared on his boyfriends cheeks made Oikawa almost laugh and he wanted to tease him, kiss him, tell him how awfully wonderful he looked right now, but knew that Iwaizumi was extra sensitive now, so he had to be careful not to chase him away.   
So Oikawa plainly kissed him, a gentle smile on his lips.   
  
“Right. Sorry.”

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
They quickly found their way to the guest house and at the night reception their keys have been given to them without any further questions.   
  
Their room was small, their bed big enough for the two of them though – to be honest, the only thing Oikawa was interested in now.   
With a swift motion he took off his jacket and kicked his shoes off, leaving no second for Iwaizumi to adjust to the new environment, before he was back at his pants, lips colliding messily, and both knew that in the dark of this small, cold and lifeless guest room there was no holding back.  
  
The walk home and calming cold air might have sunken each others blood pressure from before, but it didn't take long for the heat to reenter their bodies, adrenaline pumping blood through their veins that lead right down to their core.  
  
And now Oikawa was tasting every inch of Hajimes body, taking off his shirt, his hands fidgeting at his crotch, pulling down his pants before his mouth dropped kisses on his chest. With his hot tongue licking over one of his nipples, he felt Iwaizumis strong hands around his back, his fingers searching for any kind of grip underneath Oikawas shirt, grabbing the soft skin that laid underneath.  
  
With his now fully hardened nipple being sucked, Iwaizumi found himself suppressing a moan, his throbbing cock dripping and all his dazed mind could think of were those pretty, rose colored lips around it, the hot tongue swirling around the tip of his dick.   
  
What Iwaizumi didn't know was how much Oikawa wanted _exactly_ that as well.  
  
A needy Iwa-chan was his _favorite_.   
  
All wrapped around his fingers, breathing his name whenever Oikawa would roll his hips and press hard against him – Oikawa found himself shivering again and without any second thoughts he was on his knees, leaving wet kisses on Iwaizumis shaft.

One hand dug deep into the softness of his cheek, kneading it, before his long tongue tasted the head of Iwa-chans pulsating dick, the pre-cum making it salty, yet slightly bitter.

“Fuck..”, Iwaizumi breathed and his hands were tangled in Oikawas soft, brown locks.   
  
Heavy breathing filled the room, as Oikawa took him all in, hollowing his cheeks, eyes fluttering open as he felt Iwaizumi lightly moving his hips, yet still holding back as to not accidentally hurt his lover.  
  
Tooru sighed against Iwaizumis sensitive skin, mouth still working around his cock, wishing for exactly _that_.  
  
 _Unravel in front of me, lose yourself completely_ , it echoed in his mind and as he bobbed his head up and down, allowing himself to take more in of Iwaizumis dick, adjusting to the thickness and length, he found the room in his pants growing tighter and tighter.  
  
Iwaizumi groaned, knees growing weak as he leaned against the wall, hips rising, losing his composure more and more.  
  
“Ngh- mhmm..”   
Oikawas dying moans around his cock as he hit the back of his throat made Iwaizumis nails almost dig into Toorus scalp, and the painful, yet pleasuring throb in his core let his own mouth run lose, another low moan escaping his lips.   
  
Oikawa wanted to see his face, wanted to see his eyes closed, brows furrowed, cheeks flushed and mouth pressed together tightly, but more so he loved the way Iwaizumi gently fucked his mouth, allowing himself to take charge once more, before Oikawa would make him scream afterwards.  
  
And Tooru found himself almost unable to hold back, already having freed his dick from painfully suffocating in his trousers, his hand slowly stroked his hardened length to the sensation of being mouth fucked, being fully wrapped up by the mere idea of that _messy_ face Iwaizumi made whenever he was being fucked by Tooru.   
  
And yet again, Oikawa realized, that he couldn't hold back any longer.  
  
Suddenly releasing Iwaizumis cock from the tight pressure of Oikawas lips and tongue, he pealed his shirt off, got up and pressed his lips hard on the ones of his lovers, making him taste the own bitter-sweet, salty taste of his fluids.   
  
Rubbing their hard lengths against each other, Tooru could only breath into Hajimes ear, the slickness of their wet cocks only making his lovers core more eager for any sort of release.   
  
“Iwa-chan, I want to see your messy face so bad”, Oikawa whispered, as his hands glided down Iwaizumis lower back and his fingers found their way quickly in between Iwa-chans cheeks, teasing his hole and rubbing lightly against the damp skin.  
Iwaizumis body tensed underneath the touch, but relaxed quickly as he felt himself wanting Oikawas finger to push further, enter him and rub him inside to the point when he'd found himself losing his breath and moaning for more.  
  
So he gave in to the touch, his face nuzzled in the crook of Oikawas neck, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin. “Don't talk about it”, he mumbled and his arms wrapped around his boyfriend even tighter and Oikawas finger slowly pushed inside.   
  
“ _Do so then_.”  
  
Tooru needed nothing more than these words to drag his lovers body with him onto the bed. In almost the exact same moment Oikawa spread Iwa-chans legs quickly, placing himself before him, he waited a few seconds to catch his breath, before he let his tongue roll over the sensitive skin between his cheeks.  
  
Hungrily he sucked on his hole, hot breath grazing the skin as Oikawas chest rose in excitement, breathing erraticly, trying not to fuck into the sheets.  
  
As his tongue entered, the muscle around it slowly easing and giving in to the sensation with every passing moment, Iwaizumi _moaned_ – slow and low – and Oikawas own body reacted so intensely to the sound, that if Hajime had continued with those arousing sounds, Oikawa might have come right on the spot.   
  
Switching his tongue in for his two fingers now, the brown of Oikawas iris had completely melted, only a pool of hot coal, ready to ablaze a fire, were left and he found himself calling out for Iwa-chan, as his lovers hips rose, his spot being hit frantically by Oikawas slender fingers.   
  
Oikawas eyes _devoured_ him: watching Iwa-chan biting his lips, half lidded eyes fixated on the man above him, his body was ready to be covered in sweat after Oikawa would do him so _good_ , and so _long_.   
  
“Iwa-chan, can I-”  
  
Iwaizumi only nodded, grabbing his partners ass and pulling him closer suddenly.   
  
His answer came out lie a plead.  
  
“Please.”  
His voice was husky.  
  
Pulling his fingers out carefully, Oikawa stood up to check their bags the lube he had packed.   
With a click the bottle opened and he spread a generous amount around his erect cock – the sudden cold made him flinch and he had to suppress a squeal. He waited a few seconds for the liquid in his palm to take on his body temperature before spreading it in between Iwa-chans cheeks.   
  
Oikawa came closer to his lovers face, placed his hard length in front of Iwaizumis entrance, but stopped before entering.   
  
For a moment he had to capture the look in his eyes, the so vulnerable moment that made love so frustratingly addicting.  
  
Being and becoming one was to trust the other. Wanting to be open, to be fragile and loved for it, for every inch of good and bad that the soul held.  
  
Oikawa pressed his lips hard on Iwaizumis and nd Iwaizumi moaned into Oikawas pretty mouth as he was filled up completely in one long, penetrating stroke, that made his hips buckle already.   
  
Slow at the beginning, but with more force as Hajime adjusted to Toorus length, Oikawas hips rolled faster now, harder, the sound of skin and skin slapping together almost hypnotizing.  
  
Oikawa breathed heavily, the hotness inside of his body and around his cock overbearing, the groans and muffled moans overwhelming him and his hands grabbed Iwaizumis wrists, pinning his arms over his head as he felt a hot bundle of nerves pounding from deep inside, kicking and scratching for him to finally release, desiring to come _hard_ in his lover and to make him scream his name.   
  
But Tooru endured, knowing very well that if he'd speed up now, he would finish before him. Letting one hand wander, he found his way around Iwaizumis thighs, lifting them up, while his mouth nibbled at his neck, tasting him gently before applying more pressure and biting down completely.   
  
“ _Ah- Tooru_ ”, it left Hajimes lips, his legs pressing tighter against Oikawas glistening body, hips rising, trying to meet in unison as Iwaizumi now was fully in sync with Oikawas rhythm.   
  
Oikawa shivered, he always had to pull himself together not to combust right on the spot when Iwa-chan would call out his name.   
  
How many times has Iwaizumi seen him like this? Arched back, a moaning mess, gasping for air in between deep, long kisses, arms pulling Iwa-chan closer as his face hid in the side of Oikawas neck.   
As if he'd stare into a mirror Tooru found himself mesmerized by the way Hajimes chest rose in anticipation, waiting for his cock to be touched in the same demanding, hungry way Oikawa was filling him out, hitting his spot again and again, until Iwaizumi found himself fully wrapped up in the sounds they made and the touches they shared.  
  
Releasing his hands now, Oikawa pressed his forehead against Iwaizumis, lips grazing one another, stealing each others air, as he balanced his weight on arm, while his free hand found his way around his lovers wet cock.   
  
Painfully throbbing and almost too sensitive to touch, but Oikawa knew it was exactly this kind of overstimulation that always brought those painfully pleasurable tears into his eyes.   
  
As he began adding sloppy strokes to Iwaizumis length, he felt his body stiffening, his breathing getting heavier and Oikawa found himself speeding up, the added force of his hips forcing the bed to ache underneath them.   
  
“Like this?”, Oikawa asked, his voice nothing more than a single, low note and he felt himself crumble underneath the pressure as his lovers _yes_ was nothing more than mere cry for more. The strength of Iwaizumis hands that then landed on Toorus hips, grabbing his cheeks and bringing him to sink even _deeper_ into Hajime, made Oikawa lose his last strain of composure.   
  
Again, he found himself unable to hold back any longer, longing for the hot knot inside of him to defuse – so he held onto the mattress, fingers curling desperately into the soft material as he fucked him; no rhythm, no restrain, just building up as much heat and friction as possible, the bed still aching, skin slapping harder against each other, their wet bodies pressed together tightly, merging to become one.  
  
And even though he never admitted to it, Iwaizumi _loved it_ when Oikawa was driven by lust like that.  
  
With their voices echoing in the room, Tooru watched Hajimes face mirroring his nearing peak, both undone and consumed by their lovers expression.   
  
“ _Tooru_ ”, Hajime moaned and Oikawa felt his cock throb, almost painfully, because the way his name rolled off his lovers tongue made his hips jolt and heart burst.   
  
“ _Tooru_ ”, he moaned again, but this time he added: “ _Closer._ ”  
  
So he brought himself closer.   
  
So much closer, that Iwaizumi held onto his lovers shoulders as Toorus face was pressed against the side of Iwaizumis face, his voice so loud and clear when he lost himself and Hajime lost himself in the way Oikawa breathed his name over and over again.   
  
And in the exact same moment as Hajime felt himself combust underneath Oikawa, his cock spilling white, hot liquid onto their bodies, Oikawa came _hard_ , hips pressing against Iwaizumis with such strength, that Iwaizumi found himself clinging to his boyfriend, searching for something to hold onto while he tried to catch his breath.  
  
What followed was only their panting in the eerie silence of the room.  
  
They have laid there for a while; sharing tired, yet heartfelt kisses as both of them thought it was still too soon to pull out. Holding Oikawa in his arms, Iwa-chans lips pressed against his temples, eyes closing slowly.  
  
“I love you so much”, Tooru breathed and it was almost too quiet to hear, but Iwaizumi felt the almost intoxicating, warm emotion that formed inside his lovers chest and that was all Hajime needed to know in order to understand.   
  
“I love you, too. So, so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will bear more action and some very interesting...twists and turns let put it like that.
> 
> also, maybe...I had too much fun writing the last scene..?? asdfghjkl anyways, as I proofread this chapter and Oikawa told Iwaizumi he would 'never go back on his word' I couldn't help myself and laugh because it instantly reminded me of Naruto and how he would 'never go back on his Ninja way' lmao (can't even take my own writing serious at times, lord help me)
> 
> if you have any thoughts feel free to share them with me, I'm always very very happy to read your comments!! thanks again for the support! Stay safe and take care xx


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